SB   EB7 


lf  OUaaami 


General  Editor 
LINDSAY  TODD  DAMON 

Professor  of  English,   Brown  University 


ADDISON    AND    STEELE — Sir   Roger    de    Coverly   Papers — 

ABBOTT 
ADDISON    AND    STEELE — Selections   from   The    Taller    and 

The  Spectator — ABBOTT 
American  Short  Stories — ROYSTER 
AUSTIN — Pride   and  Prejudice — WARD 
BROWNING — Selected  Poems — REYNOLDS 
Builders  of  Democracy — GREENLAW 
BUN  VAN — The  Pilgrim's  Progress — LATHAM 
BURKE — Speech    on    Conciliation    with    Collateral    Readings — • 

WARD 

BURNS — Selected  Poems  \  1        ,       MAKSTT 

CARLYLE—  Essay  on  Burns  I  l  vol.— MARSH 
CHAUCER — Selections — GREENLAW 
COLERIDGE — The  Ancient  Mariner  \  .,        ,       Mnrmv 
LOWELL—  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal        $  X  vol.— MOC 
COOPER — The  Last  of  the  Mohicans — LEWIS 
COOPER — The  Spy — DAMON 

DANA — Two  Tears  Before  the  Mast — WESTCOTT 
DEFOE — Robinson   Crusoe — HASTINGS 
Democracy  Today — GAUSS 

DE  QUINCEY — The  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe — FRENCH 
DE   QUINCEY — Joan  of  Arc  and  Selections — MOODY 
DICKENS — A  Christmas  Carol,  etc. — BROADUS 
DICKENS — A   Tale  of  Two  Cities — BALDWIN 
DICKENS — David  Copperfield — BALDWIN 
DRYDEN — Palamon  and  Arcite — COOK 
ELIOT,    GEORGE — Silas   Marner — HANCOCK 
ELIOT,    GEORGE — The  Mill  on  the  Floss — WARD 
EMERSON — Essays  and  Addresses — HEYDRICK 
English    Poems — From    POPE,    GRAY,    GOLDSMITH,    COLERIDGE, 

BYRON,   MACAULAY,  ARNOLD,   and  others — SCUDDER 
English  Popular  Ballads — HART 
Essays — English  and  American — ALDEN 
Familiar  Letters,  English  and  American — GREENLAW 
FRANKLIN — Autobiography — GRIFFEN 
French  Short  Stories — SCHWEIKERT 
GASKELL  (Mrs.) — Cranford — HANCOCK 
GOLDSMITH — The  Vicar  of  Wake  field — MORTON 
HAWTHORNE — The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables — HERRICK 
HAWTHORNE — Twice-Told  Tales — HERRICK  AND   BRUERE 
HUGHES — Tom  Brown's  School  Days — DE  MILLF 
IRVING — Life  of  Goldsmith — KRAPP 
IRVING — The  Sketch  Book — KRAPP 


Hafee  Cnglistf)  Cla*£tc£—  continue* 


IRVING  —  Tales  of  a  Traveller  —  and  parts  of  The  Sketch  Book  —  KRAPP 
LAMB  —  Essays  of  Elia  —  BENEDICT 
LONGFELLOW  —  Narrative  Poems  —  POWELL 
LOWELL  —  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal—See  Coleridge 
MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Addtson  and  Johnson  —  NEWCOMER 
MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Clive  amd  Hastings—  NEWCOMER 
MACAULAY  —  Goldsmith,  Frederic  the  Great,  Madame  D'Arblay—  NEW- 

COMER 

MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Milton  and  Addtson  —  NEWCOMER 
MILTON  —  L'  Allegro,  II  Penseroso,  Comus,  and  Lycidas—  NEILSON 
MILTON  —  Paradise  Lost,  Books  I  and  II—  FARLEY 
Modern  Plays,  A  Book  of  —  COFFMAN 
Old  Testament  Narratives  —  RHODES 
One  Hundred  Narrative  Poems  —  TETER 
PALGRAVE  —  The  Golden  Treasury—  NEWCOMER 
PAR  KM  AN  —  The  Oregon  Trail  —  MACDONALD 
POE  —  Poems  and  Tales,  Selected—  NEWCOMER 

POPE—  Homer's  Iliad,  Books  I,  VI,  XXII,  XXIV—  CRESSY  AND  MOOL 
READE  —  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  —  DE  MlLLE 
RUSKIN  —  Sesame  and  Lilies—  LlNN 
Russian  Short  Stories  —SCHWEIKERT 
SCOTT  —  Lady  of  the  Lake—MOODf 

SCOTT  —  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  —  MOODY  AND  WlLLARD 
SCOTT  —  Marmion—  MOODY  AND  WlLLARD 
SCOTT  —  Ivanhoe  —  SlMONDS 
SCOTT  —  Quentin  Durward—SlMOKDS 

Selections  from  the  Writings  of  Abraham  Lincoln  —  HAMILTON 
SHAKSPERE—  The  Neilson  Edition—  Edited  by  W.  A.  NEILSON, 

AS  You  Like  It  Macbeth 

Hamlet  Midsummer-Night's  Dream 

Henry  V  Romeo  and  Juliet 

Julius  Caesar  The  Tempest 

Twelfth  Night 

SHAKSPERE  —  The  Merchant  of  Venice—  LOVETT 
SOUTHEY—  Life  of  Nelson—  WESTCOTT 

STEVENSON  —  Inland  Voyage  and  Travels  witt:  a  Donkey—  LEONARD 
STEVENSON  —  Kidnapped  —  LEONARD 
STEVENSON  —  Treasure  Island—  BROADTJS 

TENNYSON  —  Selected  Poems  —  REYNOLDS  * 

TENNYSON—  The  Princess—  COPELAND 
THACKERAY  —  English  Humorists  —  CUNLIFFE  AND  WATT 
THACKERAY  —  Henry  Esmond—  PHELPS 
THOREAU  —  Walden—  BOWMAN 
Three  American  Poems  —  The    Raven,    Snow-Bound  ,     Miles    Standish  — 

GREEVER 

Types  of  the  Short  Story  —  HEYDRICK 
VIRGIL  —  Aeneid—  ALLINSON  AND  ALLINSON 
Washington,  Webster,  Lincoln,  Selections  from  —  DENNEY 

SCOTT,    FORESMAN    AND    COMPANY 
CHICAGO  ATLANTA  NEW  YORK 


Hafee  Cngltef)  Classic* 


REVISED  EDITION  WITH  HELPS  TO  STUDY 

SHAKSPERE'S 

TWELFTH  NIGHT 

OR 

WHAT  YOU  WILL 


EDITED  FOR  SCHOOL  USE 
BY 

WILLIAM  ALLAN  NEILSON 

PRESIDENT  SMITH    COLLEGE 


SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 
CHICAGO  ATLANTA  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT  1903,  1919 
BY  SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 

313.19 


PKEFACE. 

The  aim  in  the  volumes  of  this  series  is  to  pre- 
sent a  satisfactory  text  of  each  play,  modernized  in 
spelling  and  punctuation,  with  as  full  an  equip- 
ment of  explanation  and  comment  as  is  necessary 
for  thorough  intelligibility.  The  first  section  of 
the  introduction  is  intended  to  give  the  student 
an  idea  >f  the  place  of  the  play  in  the  history  of 
the  English  drama  in  general,  and  of  Shakspere's 
development  in  particular.  The  evidence  for  the 
date  of  the  play  has  been  given  in  some  detail,  as 
the  mere  statement  of  the  facts  helps  to  bring 
home  the  uncertainty  which  must  be  felt  as  to 
the  authorship  of  many  of  the  songs  scattered 
through  Shakspere's  plays. 

In  dealing  with  the  source  of  the  plot,  I  have 
given  what,  after  a  somewhat  elaborate  investiga- 
tion, I  regard  with  some  assurance  as  the  truth. 
But  it  ought  to  be  said  that  the  view  here  stated, 
though  accepted  by  many  scholars,  differs  from 
that  preferred  by  Dr.  Furness  in  his  recent 
Variorum  edition  of  the  play.  For  the  reasons 
which  lead  me  to  differ  from  a  scholar  whom 
every  student  of  Shakspere  must  regard  with 
gratitude  and  honor,  reference  may  be  made  to 
an  article  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  May,  1902. 

5 


6  PREFACE. 

The  extent  to  which  Shakspere  deviates  from 
his  source  varies  in  every  play,  but  the  deviations 
themselves  are  always  significant  and  worthy  of 
the  closest  study.  So  far  as  space  permitted,  an 
attempt  has  been  made  to  indicate  the  main 
points  of  difference  between  the  versions  of  Biche 
and  Shakspere,  and  the  teacher  will  find  it 
extremely  profitable  V  ^nake  a  more  elaborate 
comparison  the  basis  oi  his  aesthetic  interpreta- 
tion. Such  a  method  is  comparatively  easy  to 
use.  and  at  the  same  time  affords  scope  for  the 
most  penetrating  analysis  and  the  most  delicate 
appreciation  that  the  classroom  permits. 

The  text  of  Apolonius  and  Silla  is  accessible 
in  the  reprint  edited  by  J.  Payne  Collier  for  the 
Shakspere  Society  in  1846,  in  Furness's  Vario- 
rum edition  of  Twelfth  Night,  and  in  Hazlitt's 
Shakespeare's  Library,  volume  I. 

For  further  details  on  the  life  and  works  of 
Shakspere,  the  following  books  may  be  referred 
to :  Dowden's  Shakspere  Primer  and  Shakspere, 
His  Mind  and  Art;  Sidney  Lee's  Life  of  William 
Shakespeare;  William  Shakespeare,  by  Barrett 
Wendell;  Shakspere  and  his  Predecessors,  by 
F.  S.  Boas.  The  most  exhaustive  account  of  the 
English  Drama  is  A.  W.  Ward's  History  of  Eng- 
dsh  Dramatic  Literature.  Both  this  work  and 
that  of  Sidney  Lee  are  rich  in  bibliographical 
information.  For  questions  of  language  and 
grammar  see  A.  Schmidt's  Shakespeare  Lexicon; 


PREFACE.  7 

J.  Bartlett's  Concordance  to  Shakespeare;  Little- 
dale's  new  edition  of  Dyce's  Glossary  to  Shake- 
speare (New  York,  1902),  and  E.  A.  Abbott's 
Shakespearian  Grammar.  For  general  questions 
of  dramatic  construction  see  Gustav  Freytag's 
Technik  des  Dramas,  translated  into  English  by 
E.  J.  MacEwan ;  and  Dr.  Elisabeth  Woodbridge's 
The  Drama,  its  Laws  and  its  Technique. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY, 
April,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE             5 

INTRODUCTION 

I.     Shakspere  and  the  English  Drama       .        .  11 

II.     Twelfth  Night 29 

TEXT          .        . 43 

NOTES 156 

WORD  INDEX .  186 

APPENDIX 

Helps  to  Study 195 

Theme    Subjects         .  200 

Selections  for  Class  Reading       .         v         .  202 


INTEODUCTION. 

I.      SHAKSPERE    AND   THE   ENGLISH    DRAMA. 

The  wonderful  rapidity  of  the  development  of 
the  English  drama  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  six- 
teenth century  stands  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
slowness  of  its  growth  before  that  period.  The 
religious  drama,  out  of  which  the  modern  dramatic 
forms  were  to  spring,  had  dragged  through  centu- 
ries with  comparatively  little  change,  and  was  still 
alive  when,  in  1576,  the  first  theatre  was  built  in 
London.  By  1600  Shakspere  had  written  more 
than  half  his  plays  and  stood  completely  master  of 
the  art  which  he  brought  to  a  pitch  unsurpassed 
in  any  age.  Much  of  this  extraordinary  later 
progress  was  due  to  contemporary  causes;  but 
there  entered  into  it  also  certain  other  elements 
which  can  be  understood  only  in  the  light  of  the 
attempts  that  had  been  made  in  the  three  or  four 
preceding  centuries. 

In  England,  as  in  Greece,  the  drama  sprang  from 
religious  ceremonial.  The  Mass,  the  centre  of 
The  Drama  ^he  P11^0  worship  of  the  Koman 
before  church,  contained  dramatic  mate- 

shakspere.  rial  in  the  gestureg  Of  .  the  offici- 
ating priests,  in  the  narratives  contained  in  the 
Lessons,  and  in  the  responsive  singing  and  chant- 
11 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

ing.  Latin,  the  language  in  which  the  services 
were  conducted,  was  unintelligible  to  the  mass  of 
the  people,  and  as  early  as  the  fifth  century  the 
clergy  had  begun  to  use  such  devices  as  tableaux 
vivants  of  scenes  like  the  marriage  in  Cana  and 
the  Adoration  of  the  Magi  to  make  comprehen- 
sible important  events  in  Bible  history.  Later, 
the  Easter  services  were  illuminated  by  repre- 
sentations of  the  scene  at  the  sepulchre  on  the 
morning  of  the  Kesurrection,  in  which  a  wooden, 
and  afterwards  a  stone,  structure  was  used  for  the 
tomb  itself,  and  the  dialogue  was  chanted  by  differ* 
ent  speakers  representing  respectively  the  angel, 
the  disciples,  and  the  women.  From  such  begin- 
nings as  this  there  gradually  evolved  the  earliest 
forms  of  the  MIRACLE  PLAY. 

As  the  presentations  became  more  elaborate, 
the  place  of  performance  was  moved  first  to  the 
churchyard,  then  to  the  fields,  and  finally  to  the 
streets  and  open  spaces  of  the  towns.  With  this 
change  of  locality  went  a  change  in  the  language 
and  in  the  actors,  and  an  extension  of  the  field  from 
which  the  subjects  were  chosen.  Latin  gave  way 
to  the  vernacular,  and  the  priests  to  laymen;  and 
miracle  plays  representing  the  lives  of  patron 
saints  were  given  by  schools,  trade  gilds,  and 
other  lay  institutions.  A  further  development 
appeared  when,  instead  of  single  plays,  whole 
series  such  as  the  extant  York,  Chester,  and 
Coventry  cycles  were  given,  dealing  in  chrono- 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.        13 

logical  order  with  the  most  important  events  in 
Bible  history  from  the  Creation  to  the  Day  of 
Judgment. 

The  stage  used  for  the  miracle  play  as  thus 
developed  was  a  platform  mounted  on  wheels, 
which  was  moved  from  space  to  space  through 
the  streets.  Each  trade  undertook  one  or  more 
plays,  and,  when  possible,  these  were  allotted  with 
reference  to  the  nature  of  the  particular  trade. 
Thus  the  play  representing  the  visit  of  the  Magi 
bearing  gifts  to  the  infant  Christ  was  given  to  the 
goldsmiths,  and  the  Building  of  the  Ark  to  the 
carpenters.  The  costumes  were  conventional  and 
frequently  grotesque.  Judas  always  wore  red 
hair  and  a  red  beard ;  Herod  appeared  as  a  fierce 
Saracen ;  the  devil  had  a  terrifying  mask  and  a 
tail;  and  divine  personages  wore  gilt  hair. 

Meanwhile  the  attitude  of  the  church  towards 
these  performances  had  changed.  Priests  were 
forbidden  to  take  part  in  them,  and  as  early  as 
the  fourteenth  century  we  find  sermons  directed 
against  them.  The  secular  management  had  a 
more  important  result  in  the  introduction  of 
comic  elements.  Figures  such  as  Noah's  wife  and 
Herod  became  frankly  farcical,  and  whole  episodes 
drawn  from  contemporary  life  and  full  of  local 
color  were  invented,  in  which  the  original  aim 
of  edification  was  displaced  by  an  explicit  attempt 
at  pure  entertainment.  Most  of  these  features 
were  characteristic  of  the  religious  drama  in  gen- 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

eral  throughout  Western  Europe.  But  the  local 
and  contemporary  elements  naturally  tended  to 
become  national;  and  in  England  we  find  in  these 
humorous  episodes  the  beginnings  of  native 
comedy. 

Long  before  the  miracle  plays  had  reached  their 
height,  the  next  stage  in  the  development  of  the 
drama  had  begun.  Even  in  very  early  performances 
there  had  appeared,  among  the  dramatis  personae 
drawn  from  the  Scriptures,  personifications  of 
abstract  qualities  such  as  Kighteousness,  Peace, 
Mercy,  and  Truth.  In  the  fifteenth  century  this 
allegorical  tendency,  which  was  prevalent  also  in 
the  non-dramatic  literature  of  the  age,  resulted  in 
the  rise  of  another  kind  of  play,  the  MORALITY, 
in  which  all  the  characters  were  personifications, 
and  in  which  the  aim,  at  first  the  teaching  of 
moral  lessons,  later  became  frequently  satirical. 
Thus  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Moralities, 
Sir  David  Lindesay's  Satire  of  the  Three  Estates, 
is  a  direct  attack  upon  the  corruption  in  the 
church  just  before  the  Reformation. 

The  advance  implied  in  the  Morality  consisted 
not  so  much  in  any  increase  in  the  vitality  of  the 
characters  or  in  the  interest  of  the  plot  (in  both 
of  which,  indeed,  there  was  usually  a  falling  off), 
as  in  the  fact  that  in  it  the  drama  had  freed 
itself  from  the  bondage  of  having  to  choose  its 
subject  matter  from  one  set  of  sources — the 
Bible,,  the  Apocrypha,  and  the  Lives  of  the  Saints 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.       15 

This  freedom  was  shared  by  the  INTERLUDE.,  a. 
form  not  always  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
Morality,  but  one  in  which  the  tendency  was  to 
substitute  for  personified  abstractions  actual 
social  types  such  as  the  Priest,  the  Pardoner,  or 
the  Palmer.  A  feature  of  both  forms  was  the 
Vice,  a  humorous  character  who  appeared  under 
the  various  disguises  of  Hypocrisy,  Fraud,  and 
the  like,  and  whose  function  it  was  to  make  fun, 
chiefly  at  the  expense  of  the  Devil.  The  Vice 
is  historically  important  as  having  bequeathed 
some  of  his  characteristics  to  the  Fool  of  the  later 
drama. 

John  Heywood,  the  most  important  writer  of 
Interludes,  lived  well  into  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
and  even  the  miracle  play  persisted  into  the 
reign  of  her  successor  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. But  long  before  it  finally  disappeared 
it  had  become  a  mere  medieval  survival.  A  new 
England  had  meantime  come  into  being  and  new 
forces  were  at  work,  manifesting  themselves  in  a 
dramatic  literature  infinitely  beyond  anything 
even  suggested  by  the  crude  forms  which  have 
been  described. 

The  great  European  intellectual  movement 
known  as  the  Renaissance  had  at  last  reached 
England,  and  it  brought  with  it  materials  for  an 
unparalleled  advance  in  all  the  living  forms  of 
literature.  Italy  and  the  classics,  especially, 
supplied  literary  models  and  material.  Not  only 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

were  translations  from  these  sources  abundant, 
*Hit  Italian  players  visited  England,  and  per- 
formed before  Queen  Elizabeth.  France  and 
Spain,  as  well  as  Italy,  flooded  the  literary  mar- 
ket with  collections  of  tales,  from  which,  both  in 
the  original  languages  and  in  such  translations  as 
are  found  in  Paynter's  Palace  of  Pleasure  (pub- 
lished 1566-67),  the  dramatists  drew  materials 
for  their  plots. 

These  literary  conditions,  however,  did  not  do 
much  beyond  offering  a  means  of  expression. 
For  a  movement  so  magnificent  in  scale  as  that 
which  produced  the  Elizabethan  Drama,  some- 
thing is  needed  besides  models  and  material.  In 
the  present  instance  this  something  is  to  be  found 
in  the  state  of  exaltation  which  characterized  the 
spirit  of  the  English  people  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  Politically,  the  nation  was  at  last  one 
after  the  protracted  divisions  of  the  Reformation, 
and  its  pride  was  stimulated  by  its  success  in  the 
fight  with  Spain.  Intellectually,  it  was  sharing 
with  the  rest  of  Europe  the  exhilaration  of  the 
Renaissance.  New  lines  of  action  in  all  parts  of 
the  world,  new  lines  of  thought  in  all  depart- 
ments of  scholarship  and  speculation,  were  open- 
ing up;  and  the  whole  land  was  throbbing  with 
life. 

In  its  very  beginnings  the  new  movement  in  Eng- 
land showed  signs  of  that  combination  of  native 
tradition  and  foreign  influence  which  was  to  char- 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.         1? 

acterize  it  throughout.  The  first  regular  English 
comedy,  Udall's  Ralph  Roister  Doister  was  an 
adaptation  of  the  plot  of  the  Miles  Gloriosus  of 
Plautus  to  contemporary  English  life.  After  a 
short  period  of  experiment  by  amateurs  working 
chiefly  under  the  influence  of  Seneca,  we  come  on 
a  band  of  professional  playwrights  who  not  only 
prepared  the  way  for  Shakspere,  but  in  some 
instances  produced  works  of  great  intrinsic  worth. 
The  mythological  dramas  of  Lyly  with  the  bright 
repartee  of  their  prose  dialogue  and  the  music  ol 
their  occasional  lyrics,  the  interesting  experiment^ 
of  Greene  and  Peele,  and  the  horrors  of  the 
tragedy  of  Kyd,  are  all  full  of  suggestions  of  what 
was  to  come.  But  by  far  the  greatest  of  Shaks- 
pere's  forerunners  was  Christopher  Marlowe,  who 
not  only  has  the  credit  of  fixing  blank  verse  as  the 
future  poetic  medium  for  English  tragedy,  but 
who  in,  his  plays  from  Tamburlaine  to  Edward  II. 
contributed  to  the  list  of  the  great  permanent 
masterpieces  of  the  English  drama. 

It  was  in  the  professional  society  of  these  men 
that  Shakspere  found  himself  when  he  came  to 

London.  Born  in  the  provincial 
B»rikyTife.8  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon  in  the 

heart  of  England,  he  was  bap- 
tized on  April  26,  1564  (May  6th,  according  to 
our  reckoning).  The  exact  day  of  his  birth  is 
unknown.  His  father  was  John  Shakspere,  a 
fairly  prosperous  tradesman,  who  iiay  be  supposed 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

to  ha^e  followed  the  custom  of  his  class  in  edu- 
cating his  son.  If  this  were  so,  William  would  be 
sent  to  the  Grammar  School,  already  able  to 
read,  when  he  was  seven,  and  there  he  would  be 
set  to  work  on  Latin  Grammar,  followed  by  read- 
ing, up  to  the  fourth  year,  in  Cato's  Maxims, 
Aesop's  Fables,  and  parts  of  Ovid,  Cicero,  and 
the  medieval  poet  Mantuanus.  If  he  continued 
through  the  fifth  and  sixth  years,  he  would  read 
parts  of  Vergil,  Horace,  Terence,  Plautus,  and 
the  Satirists.  Greek  was  not  usually  taught  in 
the  Grammar  Schools.  Whether  he  went  through 
this  course  or  not  we  have  no  means  of  knowing, 
except  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  use  of  the 
classics  in  his  works,  and  the  famous  dictum  of 
his  friend,  Ben  Jonson,  that  he  had  "  small 
Latin  and  less  Greek."  What  we  are  sure  of  is 
that  he  was  a  boy  with  remarkable  acuteness  of 
observation,  who  used  his  chances  for  picking  up 
facts  of  all  kinds;  for  only  thus  could  he  hs,ve 
accumulated  the  fund  of  information  which  he 
put  to  such  a  variety  of  uses  in  his  writings. 

Throughout  the  poet's  boyhood  the  fortunes  of 
John  Shakspere  kept  improving  until  he  reached 
the  position  of  High  Bailiff  or  Mayor  of  Stratford. 
When  William  was  about  thirteen,  however,  his 
father  began  to  meet  with  reverses,  and  these  are 
conjectured  to  have  led  to  the  boy's  being  taken 
from  school  early  and  set  to  work.  What  business 
he  was  taught  we  do  not  know,  and  indeed  we 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.        19 

have  little  more  information  about  him  till  the 
date  of  his  marriage  in  November,  1582,  to  Anne 
Hathaway,  a  woman  from  a  neighboring  village, 
who  was  seven  years  his  c  mior.  Concerning  his 
occupations  in  the  years  immedi  ,tely  preceding 
and  succeeding  his  marriage  several  traditions 
have  come  down, — of  his  having  been  apprenticed 
as  a  butcher,  of  his  having  taken  part  in  poaching 
expeditions,  and  the  like — but  none  of  these  is 
based  upon  sufficient  evidence.  About  1585  he 
left  Stratford,  and  probably  by  the  next  year  he 
had  found  his  way  to  London. 

How  soon  and  in  what  capacity  he  first  became 
attached  to  the  theatres  we  are  again  unable  to 
say,  but  by  1592  he  had  certainly  been  engaged 
in  theatrical  affairs  long  enough  to  give  some 
occasion  for  the  jealous  outburst  of  a  rival  play- 
wright, Eobert  Greene,  who,  in  a  pamphlet 
posthumously  published  in  that  year,  accused  him 
of  plagiarism.  Henry  Chettle,  the  editor  of 
Greene's  pamphlet,  shortly  after  apologized  for  his 
connection  with  the  charge,  and  bore  witness  to 
Shakspere's  honorable  reputation  as  a  man  and  to 
his  skill  both  as  an  actor  and  a  dramatist. 

Robert  Greene,  wao  thus  supplies  us  with  the 
earliest  extant  indications  of  his  rival's  presence 
in  London,  was  in  many  ways  a  typical  figure  among 
the  playwrights  with  whom  Shakspere  worked 
during  this  early  period.  A  member  of  both 
universities,  Greene  came  to  the  metropolis  while 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

yet  a  young  man,  and  there  led  a  life  of  the  most 
diversified  literary  activity,  varied  with  bouts  of 
the  wildest  debauchery.  He  was  a  writer  of 
satirical  and  controversial  pamphlets,  of  romantic 
tales,  of  elegiac,  pastoral,  and  lyric  poetry,  a 
translator,  a  dramatist, — in  fact,  a  literary  jack- 
of-all-trades.  The  society  in  which  he  lived  con- 
sisted in  part  of  "University  Wits"  like  himself, 
in  part  of  the  low  men  and  women  who  haunted 
the  vile  taverns  of  the  slums  to  prey  upon  such  as 
he.  "A  world  of  blackguardism  dashed  with 
genius,"  it  has  been  called,  and  the  phrase  is  fit 
enough.  Among  such  surroundings  Greene  lived, 
and  among  them  he  died,  bankrupt  in  body  and 
estate,  the  victim  of  his  own  ill-governed  passions. 
In  conjunction  with  such  men  as  this  Shakspere 
began  his  life-work.  His  first  dramatic  efforts 
were  made  in  revising  the  plays  of  his  predeces- 
sors with  a  view  to  their  revival  on  the  stage ;  and 
in  Titus  Andronicus  and  the  first  part  of  Henry 
VI.  we  have  examples  of  this  kind  of  work. 
The  next  step  was  probably  the  production  of 
plays  in  collaboration  with  other  writers,  and  to 
this  practice,  which  he  almost  abandoned  in  the 
middle  of  his  career,  he  seems  to  have  returned  in 
his  later  years  in  such  plays  as  Pericles,  Henry 
VIII.,  and  The  Two  Nolle  Kinsmen.  How  far 
Shakspere  was  of  this  dissolute  set  to  which  his 
fellow-workers  belonged  it  is  impossible  to  tell; 
but  we  know  that  by  and  by,  as  he  gained  mastery 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.        21 

over  his  art  and  became  more  and  more  independ- 
ent in  work  and  in  fortune,  he  left  this  sordid 
life  behind  him,  and  aimed  at  the  establishment 
of  a  family.  In  half  a  dozen  years  from  the  time 
of  Greene's  attack,  he  had  reached  the  top  of  his 
profession,  was  a  sharer  in  the  profits  of  his 
theatre,  and  had  invested  his  savings  in  land  and 
houses  in  his  native  town.  The  youth  who  ten 
years  before  had  left  Stratford  poor  and  burdened 
with  a  wife  and  three  children,  had  now  become 
"William  Shakspere,  Gentleman." 

During  these  years  Shakspere's  literary  work 
was  not  confined  to  the  drama,  which,  indeed, 
was  then  hardly  regarded  as  a  form  of  literature. 
In  1593  he  published  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  in 
1594,  Lucrece,  two  poems  belonging  to  a  class  of 
highly  wrought  versions  of  classical  legends  which 
was  then  fashionable,  and  of  which  Marlowe's 
Hero  and  Leander  is  the  other  most  famous  ex- 
ample. For  several  years,  too,  in  the  last  decade 
of  the  sixteenth  century  and  the  first  few  years 
of  the  seventeenth,  he  was  composing  a  series 
of  sonnets  on  love  and  friendship,  in  this,  too, 
following  a  literary  fashion  of  the  time.  Yet 
these  give  us  more  in  the  way  of  self -revelation 
than  anything  else  he  has  left.  From  them  we 
seem  to  be  able  to  catch  glimpses  of  his  attitude 
towards  his  profession,  and  one  of  them  makes  us 
realize  so  vividly  his  perception  of  the  tragic  risks 
of  his  surroundings  that  it  is  set  down  here: 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

O,  for  my  sake  do  you  with  Fortune  chide, 

The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 
That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide 

Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds. 
Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand, 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand: 

Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  were  renewed; 
Whilst,  like  a  willing  patient,  I  will  drink 

Potions  of  eisel  'gainst  my  strong  infection; 
No  bitterness  that  I  will  bitter  think, 

Nor  double  penance  to  correct  correction. 
Pity  me  then,  dear  friend,  and  I  assure  ye 

Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  to  avoid  the  inferences 
lying  on  the  surface  in  this  poem ;  but  whatever 
confessions  it  may  imply,  it  serves,  too,  to  give  us 
the  assurance  that  Shakspere  did  not  easily  and 
blindly  yield  to  the  temptations  that  surrounded 
the  life  of  the  theatre  of  his  time. 

For  the  theatre  of  Shakspere's  day  was  no  very 
reputable  affair.  Externally  it  appears  to  us  now 
The  Eliza-  a  Yer^  m^agre  apparatus — almost 
bethan  absurdly  so,  when  we  reflect  on  the 

grandeur  of  the  compositions  for 
which  it  gave  occasion.  A  roughly  circular 
wooden  building,  with  a  roof  over  the  stage 
and  over  the  galleries,  but  with  the  pit  often 
open  to  the  wind  and  weather,  having  very 
little  scenery  and  practically  no  attempt  at  the 
achievement  of  stage-illusion, — such  was  the 
scene  of  the  production  of  some  of  the  greatest 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.         23 

imaginative  works  the  world  has  seen.  Nor  was 
the  audience  very  choice.  The  more  respectable 
citizens  of  Puritan  tendencies  frowned  on  the 
theatre  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  found  advis- 
able to  place  the  buildings  outside  the  city  limits, 
and  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  city  fathers. 
The  pit  was  thronged  with  a  motley  crowd  ol 
petty  tradesfolk  and  the  dregs  of  the  town;  the 
gallants  of  the  time  sat  on  stools  on  the  stage, 
"drinking"  tobacco  and  chaffing  the  actors,  their 
efforts  divided  between  displaying  their  wit  and 
their  clothes.  The  actors  were  all  male,  the 
women's  parts  being  taken  by  boys  whose  voices 
were  not  yet  broken.  The  costumes,  frequently 
the  cast-off  clothing  of  the  gallants,  were  often 
gorgeous,  but  seldom  appropriate.  Thus  the  suc- 
cess of  the  performance  had  to  depend  upon  the 
excellence  of  the  piece,  the  merit  of  the  acting, 
and  the  readiness  of  appreciation  of  the  audience. 
This  last  point,  however,  was  more  to  be  relied 
upon  than  a  modern  student  might  imagine. 
Despite  their  dubious  respectability,  the  Eliza- 
bethan play -goers  must  have  been  of  wonderfully 
keen  intellectual  susceptibilities.  For  clever  feats 
in  the  manipulation  of  language,  for  puns, 
happy  alliterations,  delicate  melody  such  as  we 
find  in  the  lyrics  of  the  times,  for  the  thunder  of 
the  pentameter  as  it  rolls  through  the  tragedies  of 
Marlowe,  they  had  a  practiced  taste.  Qualities 
which  we  now  expect  to  appeal  chiefly  to  the 


2*  INTRODUCTION- 

closet  student  were  keenly  relished  by  men  who 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  and  who  at  the  same 
time  enjoyed  jokes  which  would  be  too  broad,  and 
stage  massacres  which  would  be  too  bloody,  for  a 
modern  audience  of  sensibilities  much  less  acute 
in  these  other  directions.  In  it  all  we  see  how 
far-reaching  was  the  wonderful  vitality  of  the 
time. 

This  audience  Shakspere  knew  thoroughly,  and 
in  his  writing  he  showed  himself  always,  with 
shakspere's  whatever  growth  in  permanent  ar- 
Dramatio  tistic  qualities,  the  clever  man  of 

nt'  business  with  his  eye  on  the  mar- 
ket. Thus  we  can  trace  throughout  the  course 
of  his  production  two  main  lines:  one  indicative 
of  the  changes  of  theatrical  fashions ;  one,  more 
subtle  and  more  liable  to  misinterpretation,  show- 
ing the  progress  of  his  own  spiritual  growth. 

The  chronology  of  Shakspere's  plays  will  prob- 
ably never  be  made  out  with  complete  assurance, 
but  already  much  has  been  ascertained  (1)  from 
external  evidence  such  as  dates  of  acting  or  pub- 
lication, and  allusions  in  other  works,  and  (2) 
from  internal  evidence  such  as  references  to  books 
or  events  of  known  date,  and  considerations  of 
metre  and  language.  The  following  arrangement 
represents  what  is  probably  an  approximately 
correct  view  of  the  chronological  sequence  of  his 
works,  though  scholars  are  far  from  being  agreed 
upon  many  of  the  details. 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.         26 


TRAGEDIES. 

[1596,  97) 
.  .  .  Romeo  and  Juliet  (revised  about 
VI.  Titus  Andronicus 

...>.... 

.  .  .  Julius  Caesar 
.  .  .  Hamlet 

...  Othello 
.  .  .  Macbeth 
.  .  .  King  Lear 
.  .  .  Timon  of  Athens 
.  .  .  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
.  .  .  Coriolanus 

COMEDIES.  HISTORIES, 
ve's  Labor's  Lost  
?o  Gentlemen  of  Verona  
medy  of  Errors  1.  2.  3.  Henry 
Richardlll.. 
Richard  II.  .  . 

rchant  of  Venice  King  John  .  . 
dsummer  Night's  Dream  
I's  Well  that  Ends  Well  
ming  of  the  Shrew  1.  2.  Henry  I 
rry  Wives  of  Windsor  .  .  Henry  V.  .  .  . 
ich  Ado  about  Nothing  
You  Like  It  
relfth  Night  

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?f-  INTRODUCTION. 

The  first  of  these  groups  contains  three  comedies 
of  a  distinctly  experimental  character,  and  a 
number  of  chronicle-histories,  some  of  which,  like 
the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI.,  were  almost  cer- 
tainly written  in  collaboration  with  other  play- 
wrights. The  comedies  are  light,  full  of  ingen- 
ious plays  on  words,  and  the  verse  is  often 
rhymed.  The  first  of  them,  at  least,  shows  the 
influence  of  Lyly.  The  histories  also  betray  a 
considerable  delight  in  language  for  its  own  sake, 
and  the  Marlowesque  blank  verse,  at  its  best 
eloquent  and  highly  poetical,  not  infrequently 
becomes  ranting,  while  the  pause  at  the  end  of 
each  line  tends  to  become  monotonous.  No  copy 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet  in  its  earliest  form  is  known 
to  be  in  existence,  and  the  extent  of  Shakspere's 
share  in  Titus  Andronicus  is  still  debated. 

The  second  period  contains  a  group  of  comedies 
marked  by  brilliance  in  the  dialogue ;  wholesome- 
ness,  capacity,  and  high  spirits  in  the  main  char- 
acters, and  a  pervading  feeling  of  good-humor. 
The  histories  contain  a  larger  comic  element  than 
in  the  first  period,  and  are  no  longer  suggestive  of 
Marlowe.  Ehymes  have  become  less  frequent,  and 
the  blank  verse  has  freed  itself  from  the  bondage 
of  the  end-stopped  line. 

The  plays  of  the  third  period  are  tragedies,  or 
comedies  with  a  prevailing  tragic  tone.  Shaks- 
pere  here  turned  his  attention  to  those  elements 
in  life  which  produce  perplexity  and  disaster,  and 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.         27 

in  this  series  of  masterpieces  we  have  his  most 
magnificent  achievement.  His  power  of  perfect 
adaptation  of  language  to  thought  and  feeling 
had  now  reached  its  height,  and  his  verse  had 
become  thoroughly  flexible  without  having  lost 
strength. 

In  the  fourth  period  Shakspere  returned  to 
comedy.  These  plays,  written  during  his  last 
years  in  London,  are  again  romantic  in  subject 
and  treatment,  and  technically  seem  to  show  the 
influence  of  the  earlier  successes  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher.  But  in  place  of  the  high  spirits  which 
characterized  the  comedies  of  the  earlier  periods 
we  have  a  placid  optimism,  and  a  recurrence  of 
situations  which  are  more  ingenious  than  plausi- 
ble, and  which  are  marked  externally  by  reunions 
and  reconciliations  and  internally  by  repentance 
and  forgiveness.  The  verse  is  singularly  sweet 
and  highly  poetical ;  and  the  departure  from  the 
end-stopped  line  has  now  gone  so  far  that  we  see 
clearly  the  beginnings  of  that  tendency  which 
went  to  such  an  extreme  in  some  of  Shakspere's 
successors  that  it  at  times  became  hard  to  dis- 
tinguish the  metre  at  all. 

In  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  and  Henry  VIII. , 
Shakspere  again  worked  in  partnership,  the  col- 
laborator being,  in  all  probability,  John  Fletcher. 

Nothing  that  we  know  of  Shakspere's  life  from 
external  sources  justifies  us  in  saying,  as  has 
frequertly  been  said,  that  the  changes  of  mood  in 


28  INTRODUCTION. 

his  work  from  period  to  period  corresponded  to 
changes  in  the  man  Shakspere.  As  an  artist  he 
certainly  seems  to  have  viewed  life  now  in  this 
light,  now  in  that ;  but  it  is  worth  noting  that  the 
period  of  his  gloomiest  plays  coincides  with  the 
period  of  his  greatest  worldly  prosperity.  It  has 
already  been  hinted,  too,  that  much  of  his  change 
of  manner  and  subject  was  dictated  by  the  vari- 
ations of  theatrical  fashion  and  the  example  of 
successful  contemporaries. 

Throughout  nearly  the  whole  of  these  marvel - 

ously  fertile  years  Shakspere  seems  to  have  stayed 

in  London;  but  from  1610  to  1612 

i^s^L'rl8  he  was  making  Stratford  more  and 
more  his  place  of  abode,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  was  beginning  to  write  less.  After 
1611  he  wrote  only  in  collaboration;  and  having 
spent  about  five  years  in  peaceful  retirement  in 
the  town  from  which  he  had  set  out  a  penniless 
youth,  and  to  which  he  returned  a  man  of  reputa- 
tion and  fortune,  he  died  on  April  23,  1616.  His 
only  son,  Hamnet,  having  died  in  boyhood,  of  his 
immediate  family  there  survived  him  his  wife  and 
his  two  daughters,  Susanna  and  Judith,  both  of 
whom  were  well  married.  He  lies  buried  in  the 
parish  church  of  Stratford. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  29 


II.     TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

Twelfth   Night  was    probably   written  in   the 

latter   part  of  1601.     The  most  direct  evidence 

so    far    discovered     bearing     upon 

the  date  of  the  play  is  in  the  diary 

of  John  Manningham,  a  law  student  in  the  Middle 

Temple,  in  which  the  following   passage  occurs 

under  the  date  of  February  2,  1602: 

At  our  feast  wee  had  a  play  called  "Twelve  Night, 
or  What  You  Will,"  much  like  the  Commedy  of 
Errores,  or  Menechmi  in  Plautus,  but  most  like  and 
neare  to  that  in  Italian  called  Inganni.1  A  good 
practise  in  it  to  make  the  Steward  beleeve  his  Lady 
Widowe  in  love  with  him,  by  counterfeyting  a  letter  as 
from  his  Lady  in  generall  termes,  telling  him  what  shee 
liked  best  in  him,  and  prescribing  his  gesture  in 
smiling,  his  apparaile,  &c. ,  and  then  when  he  came  to 
practise  making  him  beleeve  they  tooke  him  to  be 
mad.2 

1  Two  sixteenth  century  Italian  plays  called  GV  In- 
ganni are  extant,    but  neither  contains  the  essential 
point  of  the  plot  of  Twelfth  Night,  viz.,  the  situation 
created  by  Orsino's  sending  Viola  to  woo  Olivia.     The 
facts  that  in  all  three  there  is  a  confusion  of  identity 
between  a  brother  and  a  sister,  and  that  one  woman  falls 
in  love  with  another  who  is  disguised  as  a  man,  are 
enough  to  account  for  Manningham's  remark.     On  the 
other  hand,   GV  Inganni  may  be  a  mere  misspelling 
of  GV  Ingannati,  for  which  see  p.  32. 

2  The  Diary  of  John  Manningham,  ed.  by  John  Bruce 
for  the  Camden  Society,  Westminster,  1868,  p.  18. 


30  INTRODUCTION. 

This  fixes  the  later  limit.  If,  as  is  supposed, 
the  title  of  the  play  is  derived  from  the  date  of 
its  first  performance,  this  limit  must  be  moved 
back  to  January  6,  1602. 

The  earlier  limit  is  less  definitely  determined. 
In  1598  Francis  Meres  mentioned  in  his  Palladis 
Tamia  or  Wit's  Commonwealth ,  twelve  of  Shak- 
spere's  plays,  including  all  those  which  are  gener- 
ally believed  to  have  been  written  before  that 
date.  As  Twelfth  Night  is  not  found  in  this  list, 
it  is  argued  that  it  was  unknown  to  Meres,  and  so 
presumably  had  not  yet  been  produced.  Again, 
a  speech  of  Maria's  affords  a  clue:  "He  does 
smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than  is  in  the  new 
map  with  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies"  (III. 
ii.  86-88).  This  map  has  been  identified  with  one 
published  in  1599  to.  go  with  Hakluyt's  Voyages. 
Finally,  the  play  contains  parts  of  two  songs 
which  are  found  elsewhere.  The  Clown's  song, 
"0  Mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming?" 
(II.  iii.  43  ff),  has  been  found  by  Chappell  in 
Morley's  Consort  Lessons,  published  in  1599,  so 
that  we  must  conclude  either  that  Twelfth  Night 
was  written  by  that  date,  or  that,  as  often  was 
the  case,  an  already  existing  song  was  introduced 
into  the  play.  The  song  beginning  "Farewell, 
dear  heart"  (II.  iii.  116  ff),  fragments  of  which  are 
sung  by  Sir  Toby  and  the  Clown,  appears  in 
Robert  Jones's  BooJce of  A yres,  published  in  1601. 
The  authorship  of  this  song  also  is  unknown ;  but 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  31 

on  account  of  the  manner  of  its  introduction  into 
Twelfth  Night,  and  its  slight  poetical  value,  it  is 
not  usually  claimed  for  Shakspere.  Jones's  col- 
lection is  supposed  to  have  consisted  of  new 
songs,  so  that  if  Shakspere  drew  it  from  this 
source,  directly  or  indirectly,  he  must  have  com- 
posed this  part  of  his  play  not  earlier  than  1601. 

Thus  the  comedy  was  certainly  finished  before 
January,  1602,  was  certainly  not  written  before 
1599,  and,  as  stated  above,  was  probably  written 
in  the  latter  part  of  1601.  So  dated  it  follows 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing  and  As  You  Like  It, 
and  closes  the  trio  of  brilliant  and  high-spirited 
plays  in  which  Shakspere's  comic  genius  reached 
its  finest  expression. 

This  play,  like  many  others  of  Shakspere's, 
seems  to  have  remained  unpublished  during  his 
lifetime,  and  to  have  appeared  in 
Print  first  in  the  earliest  collected 
edition  of  his  works,  issued  in  1623 
by  the  two  actors,  Heminge  and  Condell.  This 
volume  is  usually  known  as  the  "First  Folio," 
and  from  it  the  present  text  is  taken,  with  a  few 
alterations  drawn  from  the  later  Folios  and  from 
the  suggestions  of  modern  editors. 

The  story  which  forms  the  main  plot  of  Twelfth 
Night  appeared  in  a  number  of  forms  and  lan- 
guages in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  belongs 
to  a  type  the  variants  of  which  are  spread  wideit 
through  the  literature  of  that  period.  This  par- 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

ticular  form  of  the  tale,  however,  is  found  first 
hi  an  Italian  comedy  called  GV  Ingannati,  pro- 
duced by  a  literary  society  in  Sienna 

Source  of  the       in    ^^       Qn    ^    play     the     ^^ 

ian  novelist  Bandello  based  a 
prose  tale,  which  was  translated  into  French  by 
Belleforest,  and  into  English  (probably  through 
the  French)  by  Barnabe  Riche  in  his  collection 
of  short  novels  called  Farewell  to  Militarie  Pro- 
fession, 1581.  It  is  from  the  version  of  the  story 
contained  in  this  volume,  and  there  called 
Apolonius  and  Silla,  that  Shakspere  seems  to 
have  drawn  the  plot  of  Twelfth  Night. 

In  transforming  the  novel  into  a  play,  Shak- 
spere has  handled  the  story  with  great  freedom. 
In  the  beginning  of  Riche 's  version  Silla  (=  Viola) 
falls  in  love  with  Apolonius  (=  Orsino)  while  he 
is  visiting  her  father,  but  her  love  is  not  returned 
or  even  observed,  owing  to  the  young  Duke's 
absorption  in  war  and  business.  After  he  has 
left,  Silla,  accompanied  only  by  a  servant,  sets 
out  to  seek  him,  has  unpleasant  adventures  on 
shipboard,  is  wrecked,  travels  to  Constantinople, 
and,  in  the  disguise  of  a  man,  takes  service  with 
the  Duke.  All  this  introductory  matter  Shak- 
spere omitted,  with  the  effect  of  making  the 
action  more  compact  both  in  place  and  in  time. 
The  relations  of  Olivia  and  Sebastian  are  much 
more  delicately  treated  in  the  play  than  in  the 
novel,  and  the  action  is  again  condensed  in  the 


TWELFTH  NIGHT,  33 

last  scene.  In  Riche  the  brother  leaves  the  city 
after  having  been  entertained  by  Julina  (=  Olivia; ; 
gossip  about  Silla  and  Julina  reaches  the  Duke's 
ears  and  leads  to  Silla's  being  thrown  into  a 
dungeon;  Julina  goes  to  the  Duke  to  plead  for 
Silla;  Silla  is  sent  for,  denies  having  made  any 
love-compact  with  Julina,  and  under  threat  oi 
death  reveals  her  identity.  Julina  retires  in  sad 
perplexity,  and  the  Duke  marries  Silla.  The 
rumor  of  the  marriage  brings  the  brother  back  to 
the  city,  where  he  confesses  his  former  visit  and 
marries  Julina.  A  comparison  of  this  summary 
of  events  scattered  over  a  considerable  space  of 
time  with  the  arrangement  by  which  all  the 
threads  are  drawn  together  by  Shakspere  in  the 
last  scene  of  Twelfth  Nighty  shows  something  of 
his  method  and  skill. 

In  characterization  even  more  is  due  to  the 
dramatist  than  in  construction.  The  figures  in 
Riche 's  novel  are  in  the  play  entirely  re-created, 
and  the  sentiment alism  of  the  Duke,  as  well  as  the 
appealing  union  of  pathos  and  arch  humor  which 
makes  the  charm  of  Viola,  is  altogether  the  con- 
ception of  Shakspere. 

Of  the  underplot  there  is  no  trace  in  Apolonius 
and  Silla;  and  the  characters  of  Sir  Toby  and  Sir 
Andrew,  Maria  and  Malvolio,  Fabian  and  Feste, 
are  all  of  Shakspere's  invention.  In  another 
story  of  Riche' s,  however,  in  the  same  volume  as 
Apolonius  and  Silla,  there  occurs  an  incident 


3*  INTRODUCTION. 

which  I  believe  to  have  suggested  the  charge  of 
madness  in  Malvolio  and  the  scene  in  the  dark 
house,  and  which  is  so  illuminating  as  to  the  way 
in  which  Shakspere  gathered  and  adapted  his 
material  that  it  is  worth  while  to  give  the  passage. 
In  the  story  Of  Two  Brethren  and  Their  Wives, 
the  younger  brother  married  a  rich  woman  who 
turned  out  an  inveterate  scold.  After  enduring 
much  he  adopted  heroic  measures.  With  the 
assistance  of  a  neighbor  he  dressed  her  in  rags, 
tied  her  in  a-  dark  house,  with  a  great  chain 
about  her  leg,  and  then 

callyng  his  neibours  about  her,  he  would  seeme .  with 
greate  sorrowe  to  lament  his  wives  distresse,  telling 
them  that  she  was  sodainly  become  lunatique ;  whereas, 
by  his  geasture,  he  tooke  so  greate  greefe,  as  though  he 
would  likewise  have  runne  madde  for  companie.  But 
his  wife  (as  he  had  attired  her)  seemed  in  deede  not  to 
be  well  in  her  wittes;  but,  seeyng  her  housebandes 
maners,  shewed  her  self  in  her  conditions  to  bee  a  right 
Bedlem:  she  used  no  other  wourdes  but  cursynges  and 
banninges,  criyng  for  the  plague  and  the  pestilence,  and 
that  the  devill  would  teare  her  housbande  in  peeces. 
The  companie  that  were  about  her,  thei  would  exhorte 
her,  Good  neighbour,  forget  these  idle  speeches,  which 
doeth  so  inuche  distemper  you,  and  call  upon  God,  and 
he  will  surely  helpe  you. —  Call  upon  God  for  help? 
(quoth  the  other)  wherein  should  he  helpe  me,  un- 
lesse  he  would  consume  this  wretche  with  fire  and 
brimstone?  other  help  I  have  no  need  of.  Her  house- 
bande,  he  desired  his  neighbours,  for  God's  love,  that 
chei  would  helpe  him  to  praie  for  her;  and  thus,  alto- 
gether kneeling  doune  in  her  presence,  he  beganne  to 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  35 

sale,  Miserere,  whiche  all  theie  saied  after  him;  but 
this  did  so  spight  and  vexe  her,  that  she  never  gave 
over  her  railyng  and  ragyng  againste  them  all. 

Twelfth  Night  is  written  mainly  in  blank  verse, 

which,  since  Marlowe,  had  been  the  standard  metre 

of  the  English  Drama.     Exceptions 

Metre.  . 

are  found  in  the  prose  of  the  narra- 
tive scene,  II.  i.,  of  the  scenes  in  which  the  char- 
acters of  the  underplot  appear  as  the  chief  actors, 
and  of  passages  of  repartee  such  as  I.  v.  186-266. 
This  is  in  accordance  with  Shakspere's  regular 
habit  of  using  prose  for  the  speeches  of  servants 
and  humble  persons  generally,  for  farce,  and  often 
for  matter-of-fact  narrative,  while  the  employ- 
ment of  verse  indicates  a  higher  emotional  and 
imaginative  level  of  both  action  and  dialogue. 

The  normal  type  of  the  blank  verse  has  five 
iambic  feet,  that  is,  ten  syllables  with  the  verse 
accent  falling  on  the  even  syllables.  From  this 
regular  form,  however,  Shakspere  deviates  with 
great  freedom,  the  commonest  variations  being 
the  following: 

1.  The  addition  of  an  eleventh  syllable;  e.g. : 

So    please  |  my  lord,  |  I  might   |  not    be  |  admit  |  teds 

I.  i.  24. 

And  speak  |  to  him  |  in  ma  |  ny  sorts  |  of  mu  |  sic 
That  will  |  allow  |  me  ve  |   ry  worth  j  his  ser  |  vice, 

L  ii.  58-59. 

Occasionally  this  extra  syllable  occurs  in  the 
middle  of  the  line,  at  the  main  pause  known  as 


36  INTRODUCTION. 

the  caesura,  which  is  most  frequent  after  the  third 
foot;  e.g. : 

Stealing  |  and  giv  |  ing  o  |  dour.  |  Enough !  |  no  more  |  1 

I.  i.  7. 
E'er    since  |  pursue  |  me.  \\  How    now!  |  what    news  | 

from  her?  |    I.  i.  23. 

2.  Frequently  what  seems  an  extra  syllable  is 
to  be  slurred  in  reading;  thus  " spirit"  is  mono- 
syllabic in 

O  spirit  |  of  love,  |  how  quick  |  and  fresh  |  art  thou  |  , 
I.  i.  9. 

So  the  middle  syllable  of  "natural"  is  slurred  in 

A  na  |  tural  per  |  spective,  |  that  is  |  and  is  |  not,  V.  i. 
224. 

In  some  lines  it  is  doubtful  whether  a  syllable 
is  to  be  slurred  or  sounded  as  a  light  extra 
syllable;  as,  e.  g.,  the  second  syllable  of  "cere- 
mony" in 

And  all  |  the  cere  \  mony  |  of  this  |  compact,  V.  i.  164. 

3.  Short  lines  lacking  one  or  more  feet  occur, 
especially  at  the  beginning  or  end  of  a  speech; 
e.g.: 

He  was  a  bachelor  then,  I.  ii.  29. 
No,  not  the  duke's,  I.  ii.  46. 
What  is  your  parentage?    I.  v.  308. 

4.  Long  lines  of  twelve  or  thirteen   syllables 
occur;  e.g. : 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  3? 

DC  give  |  thee  five-  |  fold   bla  |  zon.     Not  |  too  fast!  || 

Soft,  soft!    I.  v.  324. 
That  do  |  renown  |  this  ci  |  ty.     Would  |  you  par  |  don 

me,  ILL  Hi.  24. 
You    throw  |  a    strange  |  regard  |  upon  |  me,    and  ||  by 

that,  V.  i.  219. 
That  tyr  |  annous  heart  |  can  think?  |  To  one  |  of  your  | 

receiving.  III.  i.  130. 

In  such  lines  some  words  bearing  the  metrical 
accent  are  quite  unemphatic  in  reading. 

5,  Frequently,   especially  in  the  first   foot,   a 
trocnee  is   substituted  for   an  iambus,    i.e.,  the 
accent  falls  on  the  odd  instead  of  on  the  even 

syllable;  e.g. : 

i 
Give  me  |  excess  of  it,  that,  surfeiting,  I.  i.  2. 

j 
Courage  |  and   hope  both  teaching  him  the  practice. 

I.   ii.  13. 

In  the  following  line  the  first  and  third  feet  are 
anapaests,  i.e.,  have  two  unstressed  syllables 
before  the  accent. 

Let  me  speak  |  a  lit  |  tie.     TJiis  youth  \  that  you  |  see 
here  I  ,  III.  iv.  399. 

6.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  some 

: 

words  have  changed    their  pronunciation   since 
Shakspere's   time.     Thus   the   noun  "compact" 
had  the  accent  on  the  second  syllable,  as  in 
And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  \  compact,  V.  i.  164. 

So  access  in  I.  iv.  17,  aspect  in  I.  iv.  29,  record 
in  V.  i.  253 ;  and  conversely,  antique  in  II.  iv.  3, 
perspective  in  V.  i.  224,  etc- 


38  INTRODUCTION. 

Again,  terminations  like   "-tion"   were  often 
dissyllabic,  as  in 

Her    sweet  |  perfec  |  ti-ons  |  with    one  |  self    king  j  , 

I.  i.  39. 
I  know  |  not  what  |  'twas  but  |  distrac  |  ti-on  |  ,V.  i.  61. 

In  "remembrance"  and  " country"  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  the  r  is  syllabified: 

And  las  |  ting  in  |  her  sad  |  remem  |  b(e)rance  |  ,  I.  i.  32. 
The  like  |  of  him.  |  Know'st  thou  |  this  coun  |  t(e)ry  j  , 
I.  ii.  21. 

Although  differences  between  the  language  of 
Shakspere  and  that  of  our  own  day  are  obvious 
to  the  most  casual  reader,  there  is  a 
risk  that  the  student  may  under- 
estimate the  extent  of  these  differences,  and, 
assuming  that  similarity  of  form  implies  identity 
of  sense,  miss  the  true  interpretation.  The  most 
important  instances  of  change  of  meaning  are 
explained  in  the  notes;  but  a  clearer  view  of  the 
nature  and  extent  of  the  contrast  between  the 
idiom  of  Twelfth  Night  and  that  of  modern 
English  will  be  gained  by  a  classification  of  the 
most  frequent  features  of  this  contrast.  Some  of 
the  Shaksperean  usages  are  merely  results  of  the 
carelessness  and  freedom  which  the  more  elastic 
standards  of  the  Elizabethan  time  permitted; 
others  are  forms  of  expression  at  that  time  quite 
accurate,  but  now  become  obsolete. 

1.  NOUNS.     Shakspere     frequently     uses     an 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  39 

abstract  nou.i  with  "of"  where  modern  English 
has  an  adjective;  e.g.:  in  I.  v.  72,  "Mouse  oi 
virtue"  =  virtuous  mouse.  Conversely,  in  I.  iv. 
22,  "civil  bounds"  =  bounds  of  civility. 

2.  PRONOUNS,     (a)  The  nominative   is  some- 
times  used    for    the   objective,    especially   after 
prepositions;  e.£. :  "Save  I,"  III.  i.  171. 

(b)  "His"  is  sometimes  used  instead  of   the 
sign  of  the  possessive  case;  e.g.:  "The  count  his 
galleys,"  III.  iii.  26. 

(c)  The  ethical  dative  is  commoner  in  Shak- 
spere  than  in  modern  speech;  e.g. : 

Will  either  of  you  bear  me  a  challenge  to  him,  III. 

ii.  44. 

Scout  me  for  him  at  the  corner,  III.  iv.  197. 
Build  me  thy  fortunes,  III.  ii.  36. 

(d)  The  modern  distinctions  among  the  rela- 
tive pronouns  ivho,  which,  that,  as,  is  not  observed 
by  Shakspere;  e.g. : 

And  in  such  forms  which  here  were  presupposed,  V   i. 
360. 

(e)  The  objective  case  of  the  personal  pronouns 
is  at  times  used  reflexively  where  modern  English 
requires  no  object;  e.g.:  "I  fear  me,"  III.  i.  124; 
"Now  I  remember  me,"  V.  i.  286. 

3.  VERBS,  (a)  A  singular  verb  is  often  found 
with  a  plural  subject;  e.£. : 

There  is  no  woman's  sides,  II.  iv.  94. 

When  wit  and  youth  is  come  to  harvest,  III.  i.  142. 

Daylight  and  champaign  discovers  not  more,  II.  v.  175 


£0  INTRODUCTION. 

(b)  A  plural  verb  is  often  found  with  a  singular 
"subject,  through  the  attraction  of  an  intervening 
plural;  e.g. : 

Every  one  of  these  letters  are  in  my  name,  II.  v.  152-53. 
My  soul  the  faithfull'st  offerings  have  breathed  out, 
V.  i.  118. 

Each  circumstance 
Of  place,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere  and  jump,  V.  i.  258-59. 

(c)  The  "n"  is  frequently  dropped  from  the 
ending  of  the  past  participle  of  strong  verbs  in 
cases  where  it  is  retained  at  the  present  day ;  e.g. : 
"spoke"   for   "spoken,"   I.   iv.   21.     When   the 
word  thus  produced  might  be  mistaken  for  the 
infinitive,  the  form  of  the  past  tense  is  found; 
e.g.:  "took"  for  "taken,"  I.  v.  294;  "mistook" 
for  "mistaken,"  V.  i.  266,  where  the  form  "take" 
would  have  been  ambiguous. 

(d)  Verbs  of  motion  are  at  times  omitted;  e.g. : 

I  will  A  on  with  my  speech,  I.  v.  212. 
Shall  I  A  to  this  lady,  II.  iv.  123. 
A  Presently  after  him}  III.  iv.  223. 

(e)  "To"  is  sometimes  used  with  the  infinitive 
where  it  is  omitted  in  modern  English;  e.g. : 

I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit,  III.  i.  119. 

The  converse  is  more  frequent  than  it  is  in  con- 
temporary speech;  e.g. : 

Will  you  go  A  hunt,  I.  i.  16. 

First  go  A  see  your  lodging,  III.  iii.  20. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.  41 

(f)  The  infinitive  with  "to"  is  sometimes  used 
for  the  gerund  with  another  preposition;  e.g.: 

You  might  have  saved  me   my  pains,  to  have  taken 
(=  by  taking)  it  away  yourself,  II.  ii.  57. 

Under  your  hard  construction  must  I  sit 

To  force  (=  by  forcing)  that  on  you,  III.  i.  125-26. 

4.  ADVERBS,     (a)  Double  and  triple  negatives 
are  used  with  a  merely  intensive  force;  e.g. :  "Nor 
no  railing,"  I.  v.  108;  "Nor  will  you  not,"  II.  i.  1; 
"Nor  never  none,"  III.  i.  170;  "Nor  this  is  not 
iny  nose  neither,"  IV.  i.  8-9. 

(b)  The  form  of  the  adjective  is  often  used  for 
the  adverb;  e.g.:  "For  his  sake  did  I  expose 
myself,  pure  for  his  love,"  V.  i.  87. 

5.  PREPOSITIONS,     (a)  The  usage  in  preposi- 
tions- was  less  definite  than  it  is  to-day.     Thus 
"of"  =  "on"  in  "What  bestow  of  him?"  III.  iv. 
2;    "with"   =   "of"  or   "from"  in  "This  comes 
with  seeking  you,"  III.  iv.  372;    "up"  =  "out" 
in  "Make  up  that,"  II.  v.  132. 

(b)  Occasionally  prepositions  were  used  where 
in  modern  English  the  verb  takes  a  direct  object; 
e.g.:  "To  flatter  with  his  lord,"  I.  v.  335. 


TWELFTH  NIGH'l 


DKAMATIS  PEKSOSTAE. 

ORSINO,  Duke  of  Ulyria. 

SEBASTIAN,  brother  to  Viola. 

ANTONIO,  a  sea  captain,  friend  to  Sebastian. 

A  Sea  Captain,  friend  to  Viola. 

VALENTINE,  \ 

r,  >  gentlemen  attending  on  the  Duke. 

OURIO,  ) 

SIR  TOBY  BELCH,  uncle  to  Olivia. 
SIR  ANDREW  AGUECHEEK. 
MALVOLIO,  steward  to  Olivia. 

FABIAN,  ) 

_  7         v servants  to  Olivia. 

FESTE,  a  clown,  j 

OLIVIA,  a  rich  countess. 

VIOLA. 

MARIA,  Olivia's  woman. 

Lords,  Priests,  Sailors,  Officers,  Musicians, 
and  other  Attendants. 

SCENE:  A  city  in  Illyria,  and  the  sea-coast  near  it 


TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

OB, 

WHAT  YOU  WILL. 

ACT  FIRST. 

SCENE  I. 

A  room  in  the  Duke's  palace. 

Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  other  Lords;  Musicians 

attending. 
^^    "-7 
DuJcel  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on ! 

Give  me  excess  of  it,  that,  surfeiting, 
The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 
That  strain  again!  It  had  a  dying  fall. 
6         0,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing   and    giving    odour.     Enough!    no 

more! 

'Tis  not  so  sweet  now  as  it  was  before. 
0  spirit  of  love,  how  quick  and  fresh   art 

thou, 
10  That,  notwithstanding  thy  capacity 

Keceiveth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there, 
Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soe'er, 

45 


46  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  I.  So.  i 

But  falls  into  abatement  and  low  price 
Even  in  a  minute !    So  full  of  shapes  is  fancy 
That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical.  is 

Cur.  Will  you  go  hunt,  my  lord? 

Duke.  What,  Curio? 

Cur.  The  hart. 

DuJce.  Why,  so  I  do,  the  noblest  that  I  have. 
0,  when  mine  eyes  did  see  Olivia  first, 
Meth ought  she  purged  the  air  of  pestilence !  20 
That  instant  was  I  turned  into  a  hart ; 
And  my  desires,  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds, 
E'er  since  pursue  me. 

Enter  Valentine. 
How  now !  what  news  from  her? 

Vol.   So  please  my  lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted, 
But  from  ^her    handmaid    do    return    this  25 

answer : 

The  element  itself,  till  seven  years'  heat, 
Shall  not  behold  her  face  at  ample  view ; 
But,  like  a  cloistress,  she  will  veiled  walk, 
And  water  once  a  day  her  chamber  round 
With  eye-offending  brine:  all  this  to  season  so 
A  brother's  dead  love,  which  she  would  keep 

fresh 

And  lasting  in  her  sad  remembrance. 
\J)ulce.  0,  she  that  hath  a  heart  of  that  fine  frame 
To  pay  this  debt  of  love  but  to  a  brother, 
How  will  she  love  when  the  rich  golden  shaft  85 
Hath  killed  the  flock  of  all  affections  else 
That  live  in  her;  when  liver,  brain,  and  heart, 


ACT  I.  Sc.  ii.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  47 

These   sovereign   thrones,  are   all   supplied, 

and  filled 

Her  sweet  perfections  with  one  self  king ! 
?         Away  before  me  to  sweet  beds  of  flowers ; 

Love-thoughts  lie  rich  when  canopied  with 

bowers.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

The  sea-coast. 
Enter  Viola,  a  Captain,  and  Sailors. 

Vio.  What  country,  friends,  is  this? 

Cap.  This  is  Illyria,  lady. 

Vio.  And  what  should  I  do  in  Illyria? 

My  brother  he  is  in  Elysium. 
5         Perchance  he  is  not  drowned.     What  think 

you,  sailors? 

Cap.  It  is  perchance  that  you  yourself  were  saved. 
Vio.  0  my  poor  brother !  and  so  perchance  may 

he  be. 
Cap.  True,  madam;  and,  to   comfort  you  with 

chance, 

Assure  yourself,  after  our  ship  did  split, 
10         When  you  and  those  poor  number  saved  with 

you 
Hung   on    our   driving    boat,    I    saw    your 

brother, 
Most  provident  in  peril,  bind  himself, 


48  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Courage  and   hope  both   teaching   him   the 

practice, 

To  a  strong  mast  that  lived  upon  the  sea ; 
Where,  like  Arion  on  the  dolphin's  back,        15 
I  saw  him  hold  acquaintance  with  the  waves 
So  long  as  I  could  see. 

Vio.  For  saying  so,  there's  gold. 

Mine  own  escape  unfoldeth  to  my  hope, 
Whereto  thy  speech  serves  for  authority,         20 
The  like  of  him.    Know'st  thou  this  country? 

Cap.  Ay,  madam,  well ;  for  I  was  bred  and  born 
Not  three  hours'  travel  from  this  very  place. 

Vio.  Who  governs  here? 

Cap.  A  noble  duke,  in  nature  as  in  name.  25 

Vio.  What  is  his  name? 

Cap.  Orsino. 

Vio.  Orsino!    I  have  heard  my  father  name  him. 
He  was  a  bachelor  then. 

Cap.  And  so  is  now,  or  was  so  very  late ;  so 

For  but  a  month  ago  I  went  from  hence, 
And  then  'twas  fresh  in  murmur — as,  you 

know, 

What  great  ones  do  the  less  will  prattle  of — 
That  he  did  seek  the  love  of  fair  Olivia. 

Vio.  What's  she?  35 

Cap.  A  virtuous  maid,  the  daughter  of  a  count 
That   died   some    twelvemonth    since,    then 

leaving  her 

In  the  protection  of  his  son,  her  brother, 
Who  shortly  also  died ;  for  whose  dear  love, 


ACT  I.  Sc.  ii.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  U 

40         They  say,  she  hath  abjured  the  company 

And  sight  of  men. 

Via.  0  that  I  served  that  lady, 

And  might  not  he  delivered  to  the  world, 
Till  I  had  made  mine  own  occasion  mellow, 
What  my  estate  is! 

Cap.  That  were  hard  to  compass, 

45         Because  she  will  admit  no  kind  of  suit, 

No,  not  the  duke's. 

Vio.  There  is  a  fair  behaviour  in  thee,  captain; 
And  though  that  nature  with  a  beauteous 

wall 

Doth  oft  close  in  pollution,  yet  of  thee 
50         I  will  believe  thou  hast  a  mind  that  suits 
With  this  thy  fair  and  outward  character. 
I  prithee,  and  I'll  pay  thee  bounteously, 
Conceal  me  what  I  am,  anl  be  my  aid 
For  such  disguise  as  haply  shall  become 
w         The  form  of  my  intent.    I'll  serve  this  duke. 
Thou  shalt  present  me  as  an  eunuch  to  him. 
It  may  be  worth  thy  pains,  for  I  can  sing 
And  speak  to  him  in  many  sorts  of  music 
That  will  allow  me  very  worth  his  service. 
«>         What  else  may  hap  to  time  I  will  commit, 

Only  shape  thou  thy  silence  to  my  wit. 
Cap.  Be  you  his  eunuch,  and  your  mute  I'll  be. 
When  my  tongue  blabs,  then  let  mine  eyes 

not  see. 
Vio.  I  thank  thee.     Lead  me  on.  [Exeunt. 


50  TWELFTH    NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  So.  ill 


SCENE  III. 

. 

A  room  in  Olivia? s 
Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  What  a  plague  means  my  niece,  tc 

the  death  of  her  brother  thus?     I  am  sure 
care's  an  enemy  to  life. 

Mar.  By  my  troth,  Sir  Tohy,  you  must  come  in 
earlier  o'  nights.     Your    cousin,    my    lady,  5 
takes  great  exceptions  to  your  ill  hours. 

Sir  To.  Why,  let  her  except  before  except ed. 

Mar.  Ay,  but  you  must  confine  yourself  within 
the  modest  limits  of  order. 

Sir  To.  Confine!      I'll   confine   myself   no   finer  10 
than  I  am.     These  clothes  are  good  enough 
to  drink  in,  and  so  be  these  boots  too;  an 
they   be  not,  let  them  hang  themselves  in 
their  own  straps. 

Mar.  That  quaffing  and  drinking  will  undo  you.  i§ 
I  heard  my  lady  talk  of  it  yesterday,  and  of 
9   foolish  knight  that   you   brought   in  one 
night  here  to  be  her  wooer. 

Sir  To.  Who?     Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek? 

Mar.  Ay,  he.  20 

Sir  To.  He's  as  tall  a  man  as  any's  in  Illyria. 

Mar.  What's  that  to  the  purpose? 

Sir  To.  Why,  he  has   three   thousand   ducats  a 
year. 


ACT  I.  Sc.  iii.J     TWELFTH   NIGHT.  51 


.  Ay,  but  he'll  have  but  a  year  in  all  these 
ducats.     He's  a  very  fool  and  a  prodigal. 
Sir  To.  Fie,  that  you'll  say  so!     He  plays  o'  the 
viol-de-gamboys,   and  speaks  three   or   four 
languages  word  for  word  without  book,  and 
so         hath  all  the  good  gifts  of  nature. 
Mar.  He  hath  indeed,  almost  natural  ;  for  besides 
that  he's  a  fool,  he's  a  great  quarreller;  and 
but  that  he  hath  the  gift  of  a  coward  to  allay 
the  gust  he  hath  in  quarrelling,  'tis  thought 
35         among  the  prudent  he  would  quickly  have 

the  gift  of  a  grave. 

Sir  To.  By  this  hand,  they  are  scoundrels   and 
substractors  that  say  so  of  him.     Who  are 
they? 
40  Mar.  They    that    add,     moreover,    he's    drunk 

nightly  in  your  company. 

Sir  To.  With  drinking  healths  to  my  niece.  I'll 
drink  to  her  as  long  as  there  is  a  passage  in 
my  throat  and  drink  in  Illyria.  He's  a 
15  coward  and  a  coystrill  that  will  not  drink  to 
my  niece  till  his  brains  turn  o'  the  toe  like  a 
parish-top.  What,  wench  !  Castiliano  vulgo  ! 
for  here  comes  Sir  Andrew  Agueface. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek. 
Sir  And.  Sir  Toby  Belch!     How  now,  Sir  Toby 
60         Belch  ! 

Sir  To.  Sweet  Sir  Andrew! 
Sir  And.  Bless  you.  fair  shrew. 
Mar.  And  you  too,  sir. 


6fc  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  Sc.  ill. 

Sir  To.  Accost,  Sir  Andrew,  accost. 

Sir  And.  What's  that?  55 

Sir  To.  My  niece's  chambermaid. 

Sir  And.   Good  Mistress  Accost,  I  desire  better 

acquaintance. 

Mar.  My  name  is  Mary,  sir. 

Sir  And.   Good  Mistress  Mary  Accost, —  60 

Sir  To.  You  mistake,  knight.    " Accost"  is  front 

her,  board  her,  woo  her,  assail  her. 
Sir  And.  By  my  troth,  I  would  not  undertake 

her  in  this  company.     Is  that  the  meaning 

Of   "aCCOSt"?  65 

Mar.  Fare  you  well,  gentlemen. 

Sir  To.  An  thou  let  part  so,  Sir  Andrew,  would 

thou  mightst  never  draw  sword  again. 
Sir  And.  An  you  part  so,   mistress,  I  would  I 

might  never  draw  sword  again.     Fair  lady,  70 

do  you  think  you  have  fools  in  hand? 
Mar.  Sir,  I  have  not  you  by  the  hand. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  but  you  shall  have;  and  here's 

my  hand. 
Mar.  Now,  sir,  "thought  is  free."     I  pray  you,  75 

bring  your  hand  to  the  buttery- bar  and  let  it 

drink. 
Sir  And.  Wherefore,  sweet-heart?     WThat's  your 

metaphor? 

Mar.  It's  dry,  sir.  so 

Sir  And.  Why,  I  think  so.     1  am  not  such  an  ass 

but  I  can  keep  my  hand  dry.     But  what's 

your  jest? 


ACT  I.  Sc.  iii.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT,  53 

Mar.  A  dry  jest,  sir. 
85  Sir  And.  Are  you  full  of  them? 
Mar.  Ay,  sir,  I  have  them  at  my  fingers'  ends. 
Marry,  now  I  let  go  your  hand,  I  am  barren. 

[Exit. 
Sir  To.   0  knight,  thou  lackest  a  cup  of  canary. 

When  did  I  see  thee  so  put  down? 
90  Sir  And.  Never  in  your  life,  I  think,  unless  you 
see  canary  put  me  down.     Methinks  some- 
times I  have  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian  or 
an  ordinary  man  has;  but  I  am  a  great  eater 
of  beef  and  I  believe  that  does  harm  to  my 
95         wit. 

Sir  To.  No  question. 
Sir  And.  An  I  thought   that,   I'd   forswear  it. 

I'll  ride  home  to-morrow,  Sir  Toby. 
Sir  To.  Pourquoi,  my  dear  knight? 
100  Sir  And.  What  is  "pourquoi"?     Do  or  not  do? 
I  would   I   had   bestowed  that  time  in  the 
tongues  that  I  have  in  fencing,  dancing,  and 
bear-baiting.    0,  had  I  but  followed  the  arts! 
Sir  To.  Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head 
105         of  hair. 

Sir  And.  Why,  would  that  have  mended  my  hair? 
Sir  To.  Past  question;  for  thou  seest  it  will  not 

curl  by  nature. 

Sir  And.  But  it  becomes  me  well  enough,  does't 
iio         not? 

Sir.  To.  Excellent;    it    hangs    like    flax    on    a 
distaS.  .  .  . 


54  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  Sc.  lii. 

Sir  And.  Faith,  I'll  home  to-morrow,  Sir  Toby. 
Your  niece  will  not  be  seen,  or  if  she  be,  it's 
four  to  one  she'll  none  of  me.     The  count  115 
himself  here  hard  by  woos  her. 

Sir  To.  She'll  none  o'  the  count.  She'll  not 
match  above  her  degree,  neither  in  estate? 
years,  nor  wit;  I  have  heard  her  swear't. 
Tut,  there's  life  in't,  man.  120 

Sir  And.  I'll  stay  a  month  longer.  I  am  a  fellow 
o'  the  strangest  mind  i'  the  world;  I  delight 
in  masques  and  revels  sometimes  altogether. 

Sir  To.  Art  thou  good  at  these  kickshawses, 
knight?  125 

Sir  And.  As  any  man  in  Illyria,  whatsoever  he 
be,  under  the  degree  of  my  betters ;  and  yet 
I  will  not  compare  with  an  old  man. 

Sir  To.  What  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard, 
knight?  130 

Sir  And.  Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper. 

Sir  To.  And  I  can  cut  the  mutton  to't. 

Sir  And.  And  I  think  I  have  the  back-trick 
simply  as  strong  as  any  man  in  Illyria. 

Sir  To.  Wherefore  are  these  things  hid?     Where- 135 
fore  have  these  gifts  a  curtain  before  'em? 
Are   they  like   to  take   dust,   like    Mistress 
Mall's  picture?     Why  dost  thou  not  go  to 
church  in  a  galliard  and  come  home  in  a 
coranto?    My  very  walk  should  be  a  jig.  .  .  .  HO 
What  dost  thou  mean?     Is  it  a  world  to  hide 
virtues   in?     I   did  think,  by  the  excellent 


ACT  I.  So.  iv.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  55 

constitution  of  thy  leg,  it  was  formed  under 

the  star  of  a  galliard. 
145  Sir  And.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent 

well  in  a  dam'd  coloured  stock.     Shall  we 

set  about  some  revels? 
Sir  To.  What  shall  we  do  else?     Were   we  not 

born  under  Taurus? 
150  Sir  And.  Taurus!     That's  sides  and  heart. 

Sir  To.  No,  sir,  it  is  legs  and  thighs.     Let  me 

see    thee    caper.     Ha!     Higher!     Ha,     ha! 

Excellent !  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV. 

A  room  in  the  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Valentine,  and  Viola  in  man's  attire. 

Val.  If  the  duke  continue  these  favours  towards 
you,  Cesario,  you  are  like  to  be  much 
advanced.  He  hath  known  you  but  three 
days,  and  already  you  are  no  stranger. 
5  Vio.  You  either  fear  his  humour  or  my  negli- 
gence, that  you  call  in  question  the  continu- 
ance of  his  love.  Is  he  inconstant,  sir,  in  his 
favours? 

Val.  No,  believe  me. 

10  Vio.  I  thank  you.     Here  comes  the  count* 
Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  Attendants. 
Duke.  Who  saw  Cesario,  ho? 


56  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  So.  iv. 

Vio.   On  your  attendance,  my  lord;  here. 

Duke.  Stand  you  a  while  aloof.     Cesario, 

Thou    know'st    no    less    but    all.     I    have 

unclasped 

To  thee  the  book  even  of  my  secret  soul;        15 
Therefore,  good  youth,  address  thy  gait  unto 

her. 

Be  not  denied  access,  stand  at  her  doors, 
And  tell  them,  there  thy  fixed  foot  shall  grow 
Till  thou  have  audience. 

Vio.  Sure,  my  noble  lord, 

If  she  be  so  abandoned  to  her  sorrow  20 

As  it  is  spoke,  she  never  will  admit  me. 

Duke.   Be  clamorous  and  leap  all  civil  bounds 
Bather  than  make  unprofited  return. 

Vio.   Say  I  do  speak  with  her,  my  lord,  what 
then? 

Duke.   0,  then  unfold  the  passion  of  my  love,        25 
Surprise  her  with  discourse  of  my  dear  faith. 
It  shall  become  thee  well  to  act  my  woes. 
She  will  attend  it  better  in  thy  youth 
Than  in  a  nuncio  of  more  grave  aspect. 

Vio.  I  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Dear  lad,  believe  it;3o 

For  they  shall  yet  belie  thy  happy  years, 
That  say  thou  art  a  man.     Diana's  lip 
Is  not  more  smooth  and  rubious,  thy  small 

pipe 

Is  as  the  maiden's  organ,  shrill  and  sound, 
And  all  is  semblative  a  woman's  part.  *& 


ACT  I.  So.  v.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  57 

I  know  thy  constellation  is  right  apt 

For  this  affair.     Some  four   or   five  attend 

him, — 

All,  if  you  will;  for  I  myself  am  best 
When  least  in   company.     Prosper  well   in 

this, 
40         And  thou  shalt  live  as  freely  as  thy  lord, 

To  call  his  fortunes  thine. 
Vio.  I'll  do  my  best 

To  woo  your  lady, — [aside]    yet,    a   barful 

strife ! 
Whoe'er  I  woo,  myself  would  be  his  wife. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  V. 

A  room  in  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  Nay,  either  tell  me  where  thou  hast  been, 
or  I  will  not  open  my  lips  so  wide  as  a  bristle 
may  enter,  in  way  of  thy  excuse.  My  lady 
will  hang  thee  for  thy  absence. 

CTo.  Let  her  hang  me!  He  that  is  well  hanged 
in  this  world  needs  to  fear  no  colours. 

Mar.  Make  that  good. 

Clo.  He  shall  see  none  to  fear. 

Mar.  A   good  lenten   answer.     I   can   tell   thee 


$8  TWELFTH  NIGHT.       [ACT  I.  So.  v. 

where  that  saying  was  born,  of  "I  fear  noio 
colours." 

Clo.  Where,  good  Mistress  Mary? 

Mar.  In  the  wars ;  and  that  may  you  be  bold  to 
say  in  your  foolery. 

Clo.  Well,  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it ;  is 
and  those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their 
talents. 

Mar.  Yet  you  will  be  hanged  for  being  so  long 
absent;  or,  to  be  turned  away,  is  not  that  as 
good  as  a  hanging  to  you?  20 

Clo.  Many  a  good  hanging  prevents  a  bad  mar- 
riage; and,  for  turning  away,  let  summer 
bear  it  out. 

Mar.  You  are  resolute,  then? 

Clo.  Not  so,  neither;  but  I  am  resolved  on  two 25 
points. 

Mar.  That  if  one  break,'  the  other  will  hold ;  or, 
if  both  break,  your  gaskins  fall. 

Clo.  Apt,  in  good  faith;  very  apt.     Well,  go  thy 
way.    If  Sir  Toby  would  leave  drinking,  thou  so 
wert  as  witty  a  piece  of  Eve's  flesh  as  any  in 
Illyria. 

Mar.  Peace,  you  rogue,  no  more  o'  that.  Here 
comes  my  lady.  Make  your  excuse  wisely, 
you  were  best.  [Exit,  as 

Clo.  Wit,  an't  be  thy  will,  put  me  into  good 
fooling!  Those  wits,  that  think  they  have 
thee,  do  very  oft  prove  fools;  and  I,  that  am 
sure  I  lack  theer  may  pass  for  a  wise  man; 


ACT  I.  Sc  v.J     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  59 

for  what  says  Quinapalus?     " Better  a  witty 
fool  than  a  foolish  wit." 

Enter  Lady  Olivia  and  retinue  with  Malvolio. 
God  bless  thee,  lady ! 

Oil.  Take  the  fool  away. 

Clo.  Do  you  not  hear,  fellows?  Take  away  the 
lady. 

OH.  Go  to,  you're  a  dry  fool,  I'll  no  more  of  you: 
besides,  you  grow  dishonest. 

Clo.  Two  faults,  madonna,  that  drink  and  good 
counsel  will  amend;  for  give  the  dry  fool 
drink,  then  is  the  fool  not  dry:  bid  the  dis- 
honest man  mend  himself;  if  he  mend,  he  is 
no  longer  dishonest;  if  he  cannot,  let  the 
botcher  mend  him.  Any  thing  that's 
mended  is  but  patched;  virtue  that  trans- 
gresses  is  but  patched  with  sin,  and  sin  that 
amends  is  but  patched  with  virtue.  If  that 
this  simple  syllogism  will  serve,  so;  if  it  will 
not,  what  remedy?  As  there  is  no  true 
cuckold  but  calamity,  so  beauty's  a  flower. 
The  lady  bade  take  away  the  fool ;  therefore, 
I  say  again,  take  her  away. 

OU.  Sir,  I  bade  them  take  away  you. 

Clo.  Misprision  in  the  highest  degree!  Lady, 
"cucullus  non  facit  monachum";  that's  as 
much  to  say  as  I  wear  not  motley  in  my 
brain.  Good  madonna,  give  me  leave  to 
prove  you  a  fool. 

OU.  Can  you  do  it? 


60  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  I.  Sc.  v. 

Clo.  Dexteriously,  good  madonna. 

Oil.  Make  your  proof.  ?o 

Clo.  I  must  catechize  you  for  it,  madonna.    Good 
my  mouse  of  virtue,  answer  me. 

Oli.  Well,   sir,  for  want   of   other  idleness,  I'll 
bide  your  proof. 

Clo.  Good  madonna,  why  mournest  thou?  75 

Oli.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 

Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 

Oli.  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool. 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your 
brother's  soul  being  in  heaven.     Take  away  so 
the  fool,  gentlemen. 

Oli.  What   think    you   of    this    fool,    Malvolio? 
Doth  he  not  mend? 

Mai.  Yes,  and  shall  do  till  the  pangs  of  death 
shake  him.     Infirmity,  that  decays  the  wise,  85 
doth  ever  make  the  better  fool. 

Clo.  God  send  you,  sir,  a  speedy  infirmity,  for 
the  better  increasing  your  folly!     Sir  Toby 
will  be  sworn  that  I  am  no  fox,  but  he  will 
not  pass  his  word  for  twopence  that  you  arew 
no  fool. 

Oil.  How  say  you  to  that,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  I  marvel  your  ladyship  takes  delight  in  such 
a  barren  rascal.  I  saw  him  put  down  the 
other  day  with  an  ordinary  fool  that  has  no  95 
more  brain  than  a  stone.  Look  you  now, 
he's  out  of  his  guard  already.  Unless  you 
Jaugh  and  minister  occasion  to  him,  he  is 


ACTl  So.  v.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  61 

gagged.     I  protest,  I  take  these  wise  men, 
100         that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  of  fools,  no 

better  than  the  fools'  zanies. 
Oli.  0,  you  are  sick  of  self-love,  Malvolio,  and 
taste  with  a  distempered   appetite      To   be 
generous,  guiltless,  and  of  free  disposition,  is 
105         to  take  those  things  for  bird-bolts  that  you 
deem  cannon-bullets.    There  is  no  slander  in 
an  allowed  fool,  though  he  do  nothing  but 
rail;  nor  no  railing  in  a  known  discreet  man, 
though  he  do  nothing  but  reprove. 
no  Glo.  Now  Mercury  endue  thee  with  leasing,  for 
thou  speakest  well  of  fools ! 
Re-enter  Maria. 

Mar.  Madam,  there  is  at  the  gate  a  young  gentle- 
man much  desires  to  speak  with  you. 
Oli.  From  the  Count  Orsino,  is  it? 
us  Mar.  I  know  not,   madam.     'Tis  a  fair  young 

man,  and  well  attended. 
Oli.  Who  of  my  people  hold  him  in  delay? 
Mar.   Sir  Toby,  madam,  your  kinsman. 
Oli.    Fetch   him  off,    I    pray   you.     He    speaks 
f2o         nothing  but   madman;    fie   on   him!     [Exit 
Maria.]     Go  you,  Malvolio;  if  it  be  a  suit 
from  the  count,  I  am  sick,  or  not  at  home, — 
what  you  will,  to  dismiss  it.   [Exit  Malvolio\] 
Now  you  see,  sir,  how  your  fooling  grows  old, 
125         and  people  dislike  it. 

Clo.  Thou  hast  spoke  for  us,  madonna,  as  if  thy 
eldest  son  should  be  a  fool;  whose  skull  Jove 


62  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  I.  Sc.  v. 

cram  with  brains!  for — here  he  comes — one 

of  thy  kin  has  a  most  weak  pia  mater. 

Enter  Sir  Toby. 
Oli.  By  mine  honour,  half  drunk.     What  is  he  iso 

at  the  gate,  cousin? 
Sir  To.  A  gentleman. 
Oli.  A  gentleman !     What  gentleman? 
Sir  To.   'Tis  a  gentleman  here — a  plague  o'  these 

pickle-herring!     How  now,  sot!  iss 

Clo.  Good  Sir  Toby! 
Oli.  Cousin,  cousin,  how  have  you  come  so  early 

by  this  lethargy? 
Sir  To.   [Lethargy]!    I  defy  [lethargy].    There's 

one  at  the  gate.  14° 

Oli.  Ay,  marry,  what  is  he? 
Sir  To.  Let  him  be  the  devil,  an  he  will,  I  care 

not;  give  me  faith,  say  I.    Well,  it's  all  one. 

[Exit. 

Oli.  What's  a  drunken  man  like,  fool? 
Clo.  Like  a  drowned  man,  a  fool,  and  a  mad  man.  i*5 

One  draught  above  heat  makes  him  a  fool, 

the  second  mads  him,  and  a  third   drowns 

him. 
Oli.  Go  thou  and  seek  the  crowner  and  let  him 

sit  o'  my  coz,  for  he's  in  the  third  degree  of  iso 

drink,  he's  drowned.     Go,  look  after  him. 
Clo.  He  is  but  mad  yet,  madonna;  and  the  fool 

shall  look  to  the  madman.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 
Mai.  Madam,  yond  young  fellow  swears  he  will 


ACT  I.  Sc.  v.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  63 

155         speak  with  you.     I  told  him  you  were  sick. 

He  takes  on  him  to  understand  so  much,  and 

therefore  comes  to  speak  with  you.     I  told 

him  you  were  asleep.     He  seems  to  have  a 

foreknowledge  of   that   too,    and    therefore 

ice         comes  to  speak  with  you.    What  is  to  be  said 

to  him,  lady?  He's  fortified  against  any  denial. 

Oli.  Tell  him  he  shall  not  speak  with  me. 

Mai.  Has  been  told  so;  and  he  says,  he'll  stand 

at  your  door  like  a  sheriff's  post,  and  be  the 

165         supporter  to  a  bench,  but  he'll  speak  with 

you. 

Oli.  What  kind  o'  man  is  he? 
Mai.  Why,  of  mankind. 
Oli.  What  manner  of  man? 
170  Mai.   Of  very  ill  manner.     He'll  speak  with  you, 

will  you  or  no. 

OIL  Of  what  personage  and  years  is  he? 
Mai.  Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man,  nor  young 
enough  for  a  boy ;  as  a  squash  is  before  'tis  a 
ITS         peascod,   or  a  codling  when  'tis  almost  an 
apple.     'Tis   with   him   in    standing   water, 
between  boy   and    man.     He   is   very   well- 
favoured    and    he   speaks    very   shrewishly. 
One   would  think   his   mother's   milk   were 
iso         scarce  out  of  him. 

Oli.  Let    him    approach.     Call    in    my    gentle- 
woman. 

Mai.   Gentlewoman,  my  lady  calls.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Maria. 


tf4  TWELFTH  NIGHT.       [ACT  I.  So.  v. 

i'/f.  Give    me   my    veil.      Come,  throw  it  o'er 

my  face. 

We'll  once  more  hear  Orsino's  embassy.  185 

Enter  Viola  and  Attendants. 

Via.  The  honourable  lady  of  the  house,  which  is 
she? 

Oli.  Speak  to  me;  I  shall  answer  for  her.     Your 
will? 

Vio.  Most  radiant,   exquisite,  and  unmatchable  190 
beauty, — I  pray  you,  tell  me  if  this  be  the 
lady  of  the  house,  for  I  never  saw  her.     I 
would  be  loath  to  cast  away  my  speech,  for 
besides  that  it  is  excellently  well  penned,  I 
have   takeo    great    pains   to   con   it.     Goodios 
beauties,  let  me  sustain  no  scorn.    I  am  very 
comptible,  even  to  the  least  sinister  usage. 

OIL  Whence  came  you,  sir? 

Vio.  I  can  say  little  more  than  I  have  studied, 
and  that  question's  out  of  my  part.     Good  200 
gentle  one,  give  me  modest  assurance  if  you 
be  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  I  may  proceed 
in  my  speech. 

Oli.  Are  you  a  comedian? 

Vio.  No,  my  profound  heart;  and  yet,   by   thesos 
very  fangs  of  malice  I  swear,  I  am  not  that 
I  pla^r.     Are  you  the  lady  of  the  house? 

Oli.  If  I  do  not  usurp  myself,  I  am. 

Vio.  Most  certain,  if  you  are  she,  you  do  usurp 
yourself;  for  what  is  yours  to  bestow  is  ni^ 
yours  to  reserve.     But  this  is  from  mv  com 


ACT  I.  Sc.  v.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  65 

mission.     I  will  on  with  my  speech  in  your 
praise,  and  then  show  you  the  heart  of  my 
message. 
215  Oil.  Come  to  what  is  important  in't.     I  forgive 

you  the  praise. 
Vio.  Alas,  I  took  great  pains  to  study  it,  and  'tis 

poetical. 

Oli.  It  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned.     I  pray 

220         you,  keep  it  in.     I  heard  you  were  saucy  at 

my  gates,  and  allowed  your  approach  rather 

to  wonder  at  you  than  to  hear  you.     If  you 

be  not  mad,  be  gone.    If  you  have  reason,  be 

brief.     'Tis  not  that  time  of  moon  with  me 

225         to  make  one  in  so  skipping  a  dialogue. 

Mar.  Will  you  hoist  sail,   sir?     Here   lies   your 

way. 

Vio.  No,  good  swabber,  I  am  to  hull  here  a  little 

longer.     Some  mollification  for  your  giant, 

280         sweet  lady.     Tell  me  your  mind.     I  am  a 

messenger. 

OIL  Sure,  you  have  some  hideous  matter  to 
deliver,  when  the  courtesy  of  it  is  so  fearful. 
Speak  your  office. 

235  Vio.  It  alone  concerns  your  ear.  I  bring  no 
overture  of  war,  no  taxation  of  homage.  I 
hold  the  olive  in  my  hand.  My  words  are  as 
full  of  peace  as  matter. 

OIL  Yet  you  began  rudely.  What  are  you?  What 
240         would  you? 

Vio.  The  rudeness   that  hath   appeared   in  ine 


66  TWELFTH  NIGHT.       L  ACT  I.  So.  v. 

have    I    learned    from    my    entertainment. 

What  I  am,  and  what  I  would,  are  as  secret 

as   maidenhead;  to   your   ears,    divinity,    to 

any  other's,  profanation.  245 

OK.  Give  us  the  place  alone;  we  will  hear  this 

divinity.     [Exeunt  Maria  and  Attendants.] 

]STow,  sir,  what  is  your  text? 
Vio.  Most  sweet  lady, — 
Oli.  A  comfortable  doctrine,  and  much  may  be  250 

said  of  it.     Where  lies  your  text? 
Vio.  In  Orsino's  bosom. 
Oli.  In   his   bosom!     In   what   chapter    of    his 

bosom? 
Vio.  To  answer  by  the  method,  in  the  first  of  his  255 

heart. 
Oli.  0,  I  have  read  it.     It  is  heresy.     Have  you 

no  more  to  say? 

Vio.  Good  madam,  let  me  see  your  face. 
Oli.  Have  you  any  commission  from  your  lord  to  260 

negotiate  with  my  face?    You  are  now  out  of 

your  text,  but  we  will  draw  the  curtain  and 

show  you  the  picture.     Look  you,  sir,  such  a 

one  I  was — this  present.     Is't  not  well  done? 

[  Unveiling. 

Vio.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all.  265 

Oli.  'Tis  in  grain,    sir;  'twill  endure  wind  and 

weather. 
Vio.   'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white 

Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on. 

Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive,  «D 


ACT  I.  So.  v.]       TWELFTH   NIGHT.  67 

If  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave 
And  leave  the  world  no  copy. 
OH.  0,  sir,  I  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted.     I  will 
give  out  divers  schedules  of  my  beauty.     It 
S75         shall  be  inventoried,  and  every  particle  and 
utensil  labelled  to   my  will:  as,   item,   two 
lips,    indifferent   red;  item,    two  grey  eyes, 
with  lids  to  them;  item,  one  neck,  one  chin, 
and   so   forth.     Were   you    sent    hither    to 
280         praise  me? 

Vio.  I  see  you  what  you  are,  you  are  too  proud ; 
But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are  fair. 
My  lord  and  master  loves  you.     0,  such  love 
Could  be  but  recompensed,  though  you  were 

crowned 
285         The  nonpareil  of  beauty ! 

Oil.  How  does  he  love  me? 

Vio.  With  adorations,  fertile  tears, 

With  groans  that  thunder  love,  with  sighs  of 

fire. 
Oh.  Your  lord  does  know  my  mind.     I  cannot 

love  him. 

Yet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble ; 

i«o         Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 

In  voices  well  divulged,  free,  learned,  and 

valiant, 

And  in  dimension  and  the  shape  of  nature 
A  gracious  person.     But  yet  I  cannot  love 

him. 
He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 


68  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  I.  So.  v. 

Via.  If  I  did  love  you  in  my  master's  flame,         295 
With  such  a  suffering,  such  a  de&dly  life, 
In  your  denial  I  would  find  no  sense, 
I  would  not  understand  it. 

Oil.  Why,  what  would  you? 

Vio.  Make  me  a  willow  cabin  at  your  gate, 

And  call  upon  my  soul  within  the  house;        soo 

Write  loyal  cantons  of  contemned  love 

And   sing  them  loud  even   in   the  dead  of 

night; 

Halloo  your  name  to  the  reverberate  hills 
And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 
Cry  out  "Olivia!"    0,  you  should  not  rest     305 
Between  the  elements  of  air  and  earth, 
But  you  should  pity  me! 

Oil.  You  might  do  much. 

What  is  your  parentage? 

Vio.  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well. 
I  am  a  gentleman. 

Oli.  Get  you  to  your  lord.      3io 

I  cannot  love  him.     Let  him  send  no  more, — 
Unless,  perchance,  you  come  to  me  again 
To  tell  me  how  he  takes  it.     Fare  you  well! 
I  thank  you  for  your  pains.     Spend  this  for 
me. 

Vio.  I  am  no  feed  post,  lady.    Keep  your  purse.  sus 
My  master,  not  myself,  lacks  recompense. 
Love  make  his  heart  of  flint  that  you  shall 

love; 
And  let  your  fervour,  like  my  master's,  be 


ACT  I.  Sc.  v.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  69 

Placed  in  contempt!     Farewell,  fair  cruelty. 

[Exit. 
320  Oli.  "What  is  your  parentage?" 

"Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well. 
I  am  a  gentleman."     I'll  be  sworn  thou  art. 
Thy  tongue,  thy  face,  thy  limbs,  actions,  and 

spirit, 
Do  give  thee  five-fold  blazon.     Not  too  fast ! 

Soft,  soft! 

825         Unless  the  master  were  the  man.     How  now ! 
Even  so  quickly  may  one  catch  the  plague? 
Methinks  I  feel  this  youth's  perfections 
With  an  invisible  and  subtle  stealth 
To  creep  in  at  mine  eyes.     Well,  let  it  be. 
330         What  ho,  Malvolio! 

Re-enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  Here,  madam,  at  your  service. 

Oli.  Run  after  that  same  peevish  messenger, 

The  county's  man.     He  left  this  ring  behind 

him, 

Would  I  or  not.     Tell  him  I'll  none  of  it. 
335         Desire  him  not  to  flatter  with  his  lord, 

Nor  hold  him  up  with  hopes.     I'm  not  for 

him. 
If    that    the    youth    will    come    this    way 

to-morrow, 
I'll    give    him    reason's    for't.      Hie    thee, 

Malvolio. 

Mai.  Madam,  I  will.  [Exit. 

340  Oli.  I  do  I  know  not  what,  and  fear  to  find 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  I.  Sc.  v. 

Mine  eye  too  great  a  flatterer  for  my  mind. 
Fate,  show  thy  force.     Ourselves  we  do  not 

owe. 
What  is  decreed  must  be,  and  be  this  so. 

LExit 


ACT  SECOND. 
SCENE  I. 

The  sea-coast. 
Enter  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

Ant.  Will  you  stay  no  longer?  Nor  will  you  not 
that  I  go  with  you? 

Sel.  By  your  patience,  no.  My  stars  shine 
darkly  over  me.  The  malignancy  of  my  fate 
&  might  perhaps  distemper  yours,  therefore  I 
shall  crave  of  you  your  leave  that  I  may  bear 
my  evils  alone.  It  were  a  bad  recompense 
for  your  love,  to  lay  any  of  them  on  you. 

Ant.  Let  me  yet  know  of  you  whither  you  are 
10  bound. 

Seb.  No,  sooth,   sir.     My  determinate  voyage  is 

mere  extravagancy.     But  I  perceive  in  you 

so  excellent  a  touch  of  modesty,  that  you  will 

not   extort   from  me  what  I  am  willing  to 

15         keep  in ;  therefore  it  charges  me  in  manners 

the   rather  to   express   myself.     You    must 

know   of  me  then,   Antonio,   my  name    is 

Sebastian,    ^hich   I   called    Eoderigo.     My 

father     was    that    Sebastian    of    Messaline,, 

ao         whom  I  know  you  have  heard  of.     Ha  left 

7J 


*4  I  TWELFTH   NIGHT.       [ACT  II.  So.  i. 

behind  him  myself  and  a  sister,  both  born  in 
an  hour.  If  the  heavens  had  been  pleated, 
would  we  had  so  ended!  But  you,  sir, 
altered  that ;  for  some  hour  before  you  took 
me  from  the  breach  of  the  sea  was  my  sister  25 
drowned. 

AnL  Alas  the  day! 

Seb*  A  lady,  sir,  though  it  was  said  she  much 
resembled   me,  was  yet  of  many  accounted 
oeautiful;    but,    though    I   could   not   withsc 
such  estimable  wonder  overfar  believe  that, 
yet  thus  far  I  will  boldly  publish  her:  she 
bore  a  mind  that  envy  could  not   but   call 
fair.     She  is  drowned  already,  sir,  with  salt 
water,  though  I  seem  to  drown  her  remem-  85 
brance  again  with  more. 

Ant.  Pardon  me,  sir,  your  bad  entertainment. 

Seb.  0  good  Antonio,  forgive  me  your  trouble. 

Ant.  If  you  will  not  murder  me  for  my  love,  let 
me  be  your  servant.  40 

Seb.  If  you  will  not  undo  what  you  have  done, 
that  is,  kill  him  whom  you  have  recovered, 
desire  it  not.  Fare  ye  well  at  once.  My 
bosom  is  full  of  kindness,  and  I  am  yet  so 
near  the  manners  of  my  mother,  that  upon  45 
the  least  occasion  more  mine  eyes  will  tell 
tales  of  me.  I  am  bound  to  the  Count 
Orsino's  court.  Farewell.  '  [Exit. 

Ant.  The  gentleness  of  all  the  gods  go  with  thee ! 
I  have  many  enemies  in  Orsino's  court,  »o 


ACT  II.  Sc.  ii.j      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  73 

Else  would  I  very  shortly  see  thee  there. 
But,  come  what  may,  I  do  adore  thee  so, 
That  danger  shall  seem  sport,  and  I  will  go. 

[Exit. 


II. 

A  street. 
Enter  Viola,  Malvolio  following. 

tfal.  Were  you  not  even  now  with  the  Countejs 
Olivia? 

Pio.  Even  now,  sir.     On  a  moderate  pace  I  have 

since  arrived  but  hither. 

s  Mai.  She  returns  this  ring  to  you,  sir.  Yoa 
might  have  saved  me  my  pains,  to  have 
taken  it  away  yourself.  She  adds,  moreover, 
that  you  should  put  your  lord  into  a  desper- 
ate assurance  she  will  none  of  him,  and  — 
u/  one  thing  more  —  that  you  be  never  so  hardy 
to  come  again  in  his  affairs,  unless  it  be  to 
report  your  lord's  taking  of  this.  Receive 
it  so. 

Vio.  She  took  the  ring  of  me.     I'll  none  of  it. 

»<JWal.  Come,  sir,  you  peevishly  threw  it  to  her; 

and  her  will  is,  it  should  be  so  returned.     If 

it  be  worth  stooping  for,  there  it  lies  in  your 

eye;  if  not,  be  it  his  that  finds  it.         [Exit. 

Vio.  I  left  no  ring  with  her.     What  means  this 
lady? 


74  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [A or  It.  So.  ii 

Fortune  forbid  my  outside  have  not  charmed  20 

her! 

She  made  good  view  of  me;  indeed,  so  much, 
That  sure  methought  her  eyes  had  lost  her 

tongue, 

For  she  did  speak  in  starts  distractedly. 
She   loves  me,   sure.     The  cunning  of  her 

passion 

Invites  me  in  this  churlish  messenger  28 

None  of  my  lord's  ring!     Why,  he  sent  her 

none. 

I  am  the  man!     If  it  be  so,  as  'tis, 
Poor  lady,  she  were  better  love  a  dream. 
Disguise,  I  see  thou  art  a  wickedness 
Wherein  the  pregnant  enemy  does  much.         30 
How  easy  is  it  for  the  proper-false 
In  women's  waxen  hearts  to  set  their  forms! 
Alas,  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we ! 
For  such  as  we  are  made  of,  such  we  be. 
How  will  this  f adge?     My  master  loves  her  35 

dearly ; 

And  I,  poor  monster,  fond  as  much  on  him; 
And  she,  mistaken,  seems  to  dote  on  me. 
What  will  become  of  this?     As  I  am  man, 
My  state  is  desperate  for  my  master's  love, 
As  I  am  a  woman, — now  alas  the  day! —         4C 
What    thriftless    sighs     shall     poor     Olivia 

breathe ! 

0  time !  thou  must  untangle  this,  not  I. 
It  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie !    [Exit. 


ACT  II.  Sc.  iii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  75 

SCENE  III. 

A  room  in  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.  Approach,  Sir  Andrew.  Not  to  be  a-bed 
after  midnight  is  to  be  up  betimes;  and 
"diluculo  surgere,"  thou  know'st, — 

Sir  And.  Kay,  by  my  troth,  I  know  not;  but  I 
d  know,  to  be  up  late  is  to  be  up  late. 

Sir  To.  A  false  conclusion.  I  hate  it  as  an 
unfilled  can.  To  be  up  after  midnight  and 
to  go  to  bed  then,  is  early ;  so  that  to  go  to 
bed  after  midnight  is  to  go  to  bed  betimes. 
o  Does  not  our  life  consist  of  the  four 
elements? 

Sir  And.  Faith,  so  they  say;  but  I  think  it 
rather  consists  of  eating  and  drinking. 

Sir  To.  Thou'rt  a  scholar;  let  us  therefore  eat 
15  and  drink.  Marian,  I  say !  a  stoup  of  wine ! 
Enter  Clown. 

Sir  And.  Here  comes  the  fool,  i'  faith. 

Clo.  How  now,  my  hearts!  Did  you  never  see 
the  picture  of  "we  three"? 

Sir  To.  Welcome,  ass.  Now  let's  have  a  catch. 
to  Sir  And.  By  my  troth,  the  fool  has  an  excellent 
breast.  I  had  rather  than  forty  shillings  I 
had  such  a  leg,  and  so  sweet  a  breath  to 
sing,  as  the  fool  has.  In  sooth,  thou  wast  in 
very  gracious  fooling  last  night,  when  thou 


78  TWELFTH    NIGHT.    [ACT  II.  So.  iii. 

spokest   of   Pigrogromitus,   of  the   Vapiansss 
passing  the  equinoctial  of  Queubus.     'Twas 
very  good,  i'  faith.     I  sent  thee  sixpence  for 
thy  leman.     Hadst  it? 

Clo.  I  did  impeticos  thy  gratillity;  for  Malvolio's 
nose  is  no  whipstock.     My  lady  has  a  white  so 
hand,  and  the  Myrmidons  are  no  bottle-ale 
houses. 

Sir  And.  Excellent!     Why,  this  is  the  best  fool- 
ing, when  all  is  done.     Now,  a  song. 

Sir  To.  Come   on;    there   is    sixpence  for    you. 35 
Let's  have  a  song. 

Sir  And.  There's   a  testril   of  me  too.     If  one 
knight  give  a — 

Clo.  Would  you  have  a  love-song,  or  a  song  of 
good  life?  40 

Sir  To.  A  love-song,  a  love-song. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  ay.     I  care  not  for  good  life. 

Clo.   [Sings.] 

0  mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming? 
0,  stay  and  hear,  your  true  love's  coming, 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low.  45 

Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting; 
Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting, 
Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 

Sir  And.  Excellent  good,  i'  faith. 

Sir  To.  Good,  good.  so 

Clo.   [Sings.] 

What  is  love?     'Tis  not  hereafter. 
Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter; 


ACT  II.  Sc.  iii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  77 

What's  to  come  is  still  unsure. 
In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty ; 
55  Then  come  kiss  me,  sweet  and  twenty, 

Youth's  a  stuff  will  not  endure. 

Sir  And.    A   mellifluous    voice,   as    I   am   true 

knight. 

Sir  To.  A  contagious  breath. 
60  Sir  And.  Very  sweet  and  contagious,  'i  faith. 
Sir  To.  To  hear  by  the  nose,  it  is  dulcet  in  con- 
tagion.   But  shall  we  make  the  welkin  dance 
indeed?     Shall  we  rouse  the  night-owl  in  a 
catch  that  will  draw  three  souls  out  of  one 
65         weaver?     Shall  we  do  that? 
Sir  And.  An  you  love  me,  let's  do't.     I  am  dog 

at  a  catch. 
Clo.  By'r  lady,  sir,  and    some  dogs    will   catch 

well. 
TO  Sir  And.  Most  certain.    Let  our  catch  be,  "Thou 

knave." 

Clo.  "Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave,"  knight?  I 
shall  be  constrained  in't  to  call  thee  knave, 
knight. 

nSir  And.   'Tis  not   the   first    time   I   have   con- 
strained one  to  call  me  knave.     Begin,  fool. 
It  begins,  "Hold  thy  peace." 
Clo.  I  shall  never  begin  if  I  hold  my  peace. 
Sir  And.  Good,  i'  faith.     Come,  begin. 

[Catch  sung 
Enter  Maria* 


78  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  II.  So.  lit 

Mar.  What  a  caterwauling  do  you  keep  here!     If  sa 
my   lady   have   not   called   up   her    steward 
Malvolio  and  bid  him  turn  you  out  of  doors, 
never  trust  me. 

Sir  To.  My  lady's  a  Catalan,  we  are  politicians, 
Malvolio's  a  Peg-a-Eamsey,  and  "Three  85 
merry  men  be  we."  Am  not  I  consan- 
guineous? Am  I  not  of  her  blood?  Tilly- 
vally.  Lady!  [Sings.]  "There  dwelt  a  man 
in  Babylon,  lady,  lady!" 

Clo.  Beshrew   me,    the    knight's    in    admirable  90 
fooling. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  he  does  well  enough  if  he  be 
disposed,  and  so  do  I  too.  He  does  it  with 
a  better  grace,  but  I  do  it  more  natural. 

Sir  To.   [Sings.]  "0,  the  twelfth  day  of  Decem-95 
ber,"— 

Mar,  For  the  love  o'  God,  peace! 
Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  My  masters,  are  you  mad,  or  what  are  you? 
Have  you  no  wit,  manners,  nor  honesty,  but 
to  gabble  like  tinkers  at  this  time  of  night?  100 
Do  ye  make  an  alehouse  of  my  lady's  house, 
that  ye  squeak  out  yonr  coziers'  catches  with- 
out any  mitigation  or  remorse  of  voice?  Is 
there  no  respect  of  place,  persons,  nor  time 
in  you?  105 

Sir  To.  We  did  keep  time,  sir,  in  our  catches. 
Sneck  up! 

Mai.  Sir  Toby,  I  must  be  round  with  you.     My 


ACT  II.  Sc.  iii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  79 

lady   bade   me   tell    you    that,    though   she 

in          harbours  you  as  her  kinsman,  she's  nothing 

allied  to  your  disorders.     If  you  can  separate 

yourself  and  your  misdemeanours,  you   are 

welcome  to  the  house;  if  not,  an  it  would 

please  you  to  'take  leave  of  her,  she  is  very 

115         willing  to  bid  you  farewell. 

Sir  To.  "Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must  needs 

be  gone." 

Mar.  Nay,  good  Sir  Toby. 

Clo.    "His   eyes   do   show  his   days  are  almost 
120         done." 

Mai.  Is't  even  so? 
Sir  To.  "But  I  will  never  die." 
Clo.  Sir  Toby,  there  you  lie. 
Mai.  This  is  much  credit  to  you. 
mSir  To.  "Shall  I  bid  him  go?" 
Clo.  "What  an  if  you  do?" 
Sir  To.  "Shall  I  bid  him  go,  and  spare  not?" 
Clo.  "0  no,  no,  no,  no,  you  dare  not." 
Sir  To.  Out  o'  tune,  sir;  ye  lie.     Art  any  more 
130         than  a  steward?     Dost  thou  think,  because 
thou  art  virtuous,   there  shall  be  no  more 
cakes  and  ale? 
Clo.  Yes,  by  Saint  Anne,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot 

i'  the  mouth  too. 

mSir  To.  Thou'rt  i'  the  right.     Go,  sir,  rub  your 

chain  with  crumbs.    A  stoup  of  wine,  Maria ! 

Mai.    Mistress   Mary,    if   you  prized   my   lady's 

favour   at   any  thing  more   than  contempt. 


80  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  II.  So.  iii. 

you  would  not  give  means  for  this  uncivil 
rule.     She  shall  know  of  it,  by  this  hand.       HO 

[Exit. 

Mar.  Go  shake  your  ears. 

Sir  And.  'Twere  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink  when 
a  man's  a-hungry,  to  challenge  him  the  field, 
and  then  to  break  promise  with  him  and 
make  a  fool  of  him.  HS 

Sir  To.  Do't,  knight.  I'll  write  thee  a  chal- 
lenge, or  I'll  deliver  thy  indignation  to  him 
by  word  of  mouth. 

Mar.  Sweet  Sir  Toby,  be   patient  for  to-night. 
Since  the  youth  of  the  count's  was  to-day  IBC 
with  my  lady,  she  is  much  out  of  quiet.    For 
Monsieur  Malvolio,  let  me  alone  with  him. 
If  I   do  not  gull  him  into  a  nayword,  and 
make  him  a  common  recreation,  do  not  think 
I  have  wit  'enough  to  lie  straight  in  my  bed.  155 
I  know  I  can  do  it. 

Sir  To.  Possess  us,  possess  us.  Tell  us  some- 
thing of  him. 

Mar.  Marry,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of 
puritan.  ieo 

Sir  And.  0,  if  I  thought  that,  I'd  beat  him  like 
a  dog! 

Sir  To.  What,  for  being  a  puritan?  Thy  exqui- 
site reason,  dear  knight? 

jStir  And.  I  ha^e  no  exquisite  reason  for't,  but  Ii65 
have  reason  good  enough. 

Mar    The  devil  a  puritan  that  he  is,  or  any  thing 


ACT  II.  So.  iii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  81 

constantly,  but  a  time-pleaser ;  an  affectioned 

ass,  that  cons  state  without  book  and  utters 

no         it  by  great  swarths;  the  best  persuaded  of 

himself,    so   crammed,    as    he   thinks,    with 

excellencies,  that  it  is  his  grounds  of  faith 

that  all  that  look  on  him  love  him ;  and  on 

that  vice  in  him  will  my  revenge  find  notable 

J75         cause  to  work. 

Sir  To.  What  wilt  thou  do? 

Mar.  I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  epistles 
of  love;  wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beard, 
the  shape  of  his  leg,  the  manner  of  his  gait, 
iso         the  expressure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and  com- 
plexion, he  shall  find  himself  most  feelingly 
personated.     I  can  write  very  like  my  lady 
your  niece.     On  a  forgotten  matter  we  can 
hardly  make  distinction  of  our  hands, 
iss  Sir  To.  Excellent !     I  smell  a  device. 
Sir  And.  I  have't  in  my  nose  too. 
Sir  To.  He  shall  think,  by  the  letters  that  thou 
wilt  drop,  that  they  come  from  my  niece,  and 
that  she's  in  love  with  him. 
mMar.  My  purpose   is,   indeed,    a   horse   of   that 

colour. 
Sir  And.  And  your  horse  now  would  make  him 

an  ass. 

Mar.  Ass,  I  doubt  not. 
195 Sir  And.   0,'t  will  be  admirable! 

Mar.  Sport  royal,   I  warrant  you.     I  know  my 
physic  will  work  with  him.     I  will  plant  you 


32  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  II.  Sc.  iv. 

two,  and  let  the  fool  make  a  third,  where  he 
shall  find  the  letter.     Observe  his  construc- 
tion of  it.     For  this  night,  to  bed,  and  dream  200 
on  the  event.     Farewell.  [Exit. 

$*<*  To.  Good  night,  Penthesilea. 

Sir  And.  Before  me,  she's  a  good  wench. 

Sir  To.  She's  a  beagle,  true-bred,  and  one  that 
adores  me,     What  o'  that?  205 

Sir  And.  I  was  adored  once  too. 

Sir  To.  Let's  to  bed,  knight.     Thou  hadst  need 
send  for  more  money. 

Sir  And.  If  I  cannot  recover  your  niece,  I  am  a 
foul  way  out.  210 

Sir  To.  Send  for  money,  knight.     If  thou  hast 
her  not  i'  the  end,  call  me  cut. 

Sir  And.  If  I  do  not,  never  trust  me,  take  it  how 
you  will. 

Sir  To.  Come,  come,  I'll  go  burn  some  sack;  'tis 215 
too  late  to  go  to  bed  now.     Come,  knight; 
come,  knight.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV. 

A  room  in  the  Duke9  s  palace. 
Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  others. 

Duke.    Give     me     some    music.      Now,  —  good 

morrow,  friends, — 
Now,  good  Cesario,  but  that  piece  of  song, 


ACT  II.  So.  iv.]   TWELFTH  NIGHT.  83 

That  old  and  antique  song  we  heard  last  night. 
Methought  it  did  relieve  my  passion  much, 
r          More  than  light  airs  and  recollected  terms 
Of  these  most  brisk  and  giddy-paced  times. 
Come,  but  one  verse. 
Cur.  He  is  not  here,  so  please  your  lordship,  that 

should  sing  it. 
it  Duke.  Who  was  it? 

Cur.  Feste,  the  jester,  my  lord;  a  fool  that  the 
lady  Olivia's  father  took  much  delight  in. 
He  is  about  the  house. 

Duke.    Seek    him    out,    and   play   the   tune   the 
while.  [Exit  Curio.     Music  plays. 

15         Come  hither,  boy.     If  ever  thou  shalt  love, 
In  the  sweet  pangs  of  it  remember  me; 
For  such  as  I  am  all  true  lovers  are, 
Unstaid  and  skittish  in  all  motions  else, 
Save  in  the  constant  image  of  the  creature 
20         That  is  beloved.     How  dost  thou  like  this 

tune? 

Vio.  It  gives  a  very  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  Love  is  throned. 

'Duke.  Thou  dost  speak  masterly. 

* 

My   life   upon't,   young    though  thou    art, 

thine  eye 

Hath  stayed  upon  some  favour  that  it  loves. 
25         Hath  it  not,  boy? 

Vio.  A  little,  by  your  favour. 

Duke.  What  kind  of  woman  is't? 

Vio.  Of  your  complexion. 


84  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  II.  So.  iv. 

Duke.  She  is  not  worth  thee,  then.     What  years, 
i'  faith? 

Vio.  About  your  years,  my  lord. 

Dulcet  Too  old,  by  heaven.     Let  still  the  woman 

take 

An  elder  than  herself;  so  wears  she  to  him,  3« 
So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart.> 
For,  boy,  however  we  do  praise  ourselves, 
Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm, 
More   longing,    wavering,    sooner    lost   and 

worn, 
Than  women's  are. 

Vio.  I  think  it  well,  my  lord.  35 

Duke.  Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyself, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent. 
For  women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower 
Being  once  displayed,  doth  fall  that  very  hour, 

Vio.  And  so  they  are ;  alas,  that  they  are  so !         40 
To  die,  even  when  they  to  perfection  grow! 
Re-enter  Curio  and  Clown. 

Duke.   0,  fellow,  come,  the  song  we  had  last  night. 
Mark  it  Cesario,  it  is  old  and  plain. 
The  spinsters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun 
And  the  free  maids  that  weave  their  thread^ 

with  bones 

Do  use  to  chant  it.     It  is  silly  sooth, 
And   dallies   with    the   innocence    of    love,, 
Like  the  old  age. 

Clo.  Are  you  ready,  sir? 

Duke.   Ay;  prithee,  sing.  [Music.  50 


ACT  IL  Sc.  iv.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  85 

SONG. 

Clo.  Come  away,  come  away,  death, 

And  in  sad  cypress  let  me  be  laid. 
Fly  away,  fly  away,  breath ; 

I  am  slain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
55  My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew, 

0,  prepare  it! 

My  part  of  death,  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  flower  sweet, 
60  On  my  black  coffin  let  there  be  strown. 

Not  a  friend,  not  a  friend  greet 

My  poor  corpse,  where  my  bones  shall  be 

thrown. 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  save, 

Lay  me,  0,  where 

65  Sad  true  lover  never  finds  my  grave, 

To  weep  there! 

Duke.  There's  for  thy  pains. 
"Clo.  No  pains,  sir;  I  take  pleasure  in  singing,  sir. 
Duke.  I'll  pay  thy  pleasure  then. 
?o  Clo.  Truly,  sir,  and  pleasure  will  be  paid,  one 

time  or  another. 

Duke.  Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee. 

*~Clo.  Now,  the  melancholy  god  protect  thee,  and 

the  tailor  make  thy  doublet  of  changeable 

75         taffeta,  for  thy  mind  is  a  very  opal.    I  would 

have  men  of  such  constancy  put  to  sea,  that 


86  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [Acr  II.  So.  iv 

their  business  might  be  every  thing  and  their 
intent  every  where;  for  that's  it  that  always 
makes  a  good  voyage  of  nothing.  Farewell. 

{Exit. 
Duke.  Let  all  the  rest  give  place. 

[Curio  and  Attendants  retire. 

Once  more,  Cesario,  so 
Get  thee  to  yond  same  sovereign  cruelty. 
Tell   her,    my  love,    more   noble    than    the 

world, 

Prizes  not  quantity  of  dirty  lands. 
The  parts  that  fortune  hath  bestowed  upon 

her, 

Tell  her,  I  hold  as  giddily  as  fortune;  85 

But  'tis  that  miracle  and  queen  of  gems 
That  nature  pranks  her  in  attracts  my  soul. 
Fi'o._But  if  she  cannot  love  you,  sir? 
Duke.  I  cannot  be  so  answered. 
Vio.  Sooth,  but  you  must. 

Say  that  some  lady,  as  perhaps  there  is,          oo 
Hath  for  your  love  as  great  a  pang  of  heart 
As  you  have  for  Olivia.     You  cannot  love  her. 
You   tell   her   so.     Must   she   not  then    be 

answered? 

Duke.  There  is  no  woman's  sides 

Can  bide  the  beating  of  so  strong  a  passion     95 
As  love  doth   give  my  heart;  no   woman's 

heart 

So  big,  to  hold  so  much.     They  lack  reten- 
tion. 


ACT  II.  So.  iv.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  8? 

Alas,  their  love  may  be  called  appetite, 
No  motion  of  the  liver,  but  the  palate, 
100         That  suffer  surfeit,  cloyment,  and  revolt- 
But  mine  is  all  as  hungry  as  the  sea, 
And  can  digest  as  much.     Make  no  compare 
Between  that  love  a  woman  can  bear  me 
And  that  I  owe  Olivia. 

Via.  Ay,  but  I  know — 

105  Duke.  What  dost  thou  know? 

Vio.  Too  well  what  love   women   to   men  may 

owe. 

In  faith,  they  are  as  true  of  heart  as  we. 
My  father  had  a  daughter  loved  a  man, 
As  it  might  be,  perhaps,  were  I  a  woman, 
mo         I  should  your  lordship. 

Duke.  And  what's  her  history? 

Vio.  A  blank,  my  lord.     She  never  told  her  love, 

But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud, 

Feed  on  her  damask  cheek.     She  pined  in 

thought, 

And  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy 
ns         She  sat,  like  patience  on  a  monument, 

Smiling  at  grief.     Was  not  this  love  indeed? 
We  men  may  say   more,    swear   more;    but 

indeed 
Our  shows  are  more  than  will,  for  still  we 

prove 

Much  in  our  vows,  but  little  in  our  love. 
e^  But  died  thy  sister  of  her  love,  my  boy? 
Vio.  I  am  all  the  daughters  of  my  father's  house, 


88  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  II.  Sc.  v. 

And  all  the  brothers  too; — and  yet  I  know 

not. 

Sir,  shall  I  to  this  lady? 

Dulce.  Ay,  that's  the  theme. 

To  her  in  haste.     Give  her  this  jewel.     Say, 
My  love  can  give  no  place,  bide  no  denay.        125 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. 

Olivia's  garden. 

Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew ,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Come  thy  ways,  Signior  Fabian. 

Fab.  Nay,  I'll  come.  If  I  lose  a  scruple  of  this 
sport,  let  me  be  boiled  to  death  with  melan- 
choly. 

Sir  To.  Wouldst  thou  not  be  glad  to  have  the  5 
niggardly  rascally  sheep-biter  come  by  some 
notable  shame? 

Fab.  I  would  exult,  man.  You  know,  he  brought 
me  out  o'  favour  with  my  lady  about  a  bear- 
baiting  here.  10 

Sir  To.  To  anger  him  we'll  have  the  bear  again, 
and  we  will  fool  him  black  and  blue.  Shall 
we  not,  Sir  Andrew? 

Sir  And.  An  we  do  not,  it  is  pity  of  our  lives. 

Sir  To.  Here  comes  the  little  villain.  is 

Enter  Maria. 
How  now,  my  metal  of  India! 


ACT  II.  Sc.  v.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  89 

Mar.  Get  ye  all  three  into  the  box-tree;  Malvo- 

lio's  coming  down  this  walk.     He  has  been 

yonder  i'  the  sun  practising  behaviour  to  his 

20         own  shadow  this  half  hour.     Observe  him, 

for   the  love   of   mockery,  for   I  know  this 

letter  will  make  a  contemplative  idiot  of  him. 

Close,  in  the  name  of  jesting !    Lie  thou  there 

[throws    down  a  letter],  for  here  comes  the 

ss         trout  that  must  be  caught  with  tickling. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.   'Tis  but  a  fortune.     All  is  fortune.     Maria 

once  told  me  she  did  affect  me;  and  I  have 

heard  herself  come  thus  near,  that,  should 

she   fancy,    it    should   be   one   of   my   com- 

30         plexion.     Besides,  she  uses  me  with  a  more 

exalted  respect  than  any  one  else  that  follows 

her.     What  should  I  think  on't? 

Sir  To.  Here's  an  overweening  rogue! 

Fab.    0,    peace!     Contemplation    makes   a    rare 

35         turkey-cock  of  him.     How  he  jets  under  his 

advanced  plumes ! 

Sir  And.  'S  light,  I  could  so  beat  the  rogue! 
Sir  To.  Peace,  I  say. 
Mai.  To  be  Count  Malvolio! 
*> Sir  To.  Ah,  rogue! 
Sir  And.  Pistol  him,  pistol  him. 
Sir  To.  Peace,  peace! 

Mai.  There  is  example   for't.     The  lady  of  the 
Strachy  married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe. 


90  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [  ACT  II.  So.  Y. 

Sir  And.  Fie  on  him,  Jezebel!  45 

Fab.  0,  peace!  now  he's  deeply  in.  Look  how 
imagination  blows  him. 

Mai.  Having  been  three  months  married  to  her, 
sitting  in  my  state, — 

Sir  To.  0,  for  a  stone-bow,  to  hit  him  in  the  eye! 50 

Mai.  Calling  my  officers  about  me,  in  my 
branched  velvet  gown,  having  come  from  a 
day-bed,  where  I  have  left  Olivia  sleeping, — 

Sir  To.  Fire  and  brimstone! 

Fab.  0,  peace,  peace!  55 

Mai.  And  then  to  have  the  humour  of  state ;  and 
after  a  demure  travel  of  regard,  telling  them 
I  know  my  place  as  I  would  they  should  do 
theirs,  to  ask  for  kinsman  Toby, — 

Sir  To.  Bolts  and  shackles !  eo 

Fab.  0  peace,  peace,  peace!     Now,  now. 

Mai.  Seven  of  my  people,  with  an  obedient  start, 
make  out  for  him.     I  frown  the  while,  and 
perchance  wind  up  my  watch,  or  play  with 
my — some    rich    jewel.     Toby    approaches,  65 
courtesies  there  to  me, — 

Sir  To.  Shall  this  fellow  live? 

Fab.  Though  our  silence  be  drawn  from  us  with 
cars,  yet  peace. 

Mai.  I  extend  my  hand  to  him  thus,  quenching  ?o 
my  familiar  smile  with  an  austere  regard  of 
control, — 

Sir  To.  And  does  not  Toby  take  you  a  blow  o' 
the  lips  then? 


ACT  II.  Sc.  v.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  91 

75  Mai.  Saying,  "  Cousin  Toby,  my  fortunes  having 
cast  me  on  your  niece  give  me  this  preroga- 
tive of  speech," — 
*Sir  To.  What,  what? 

Mai.  "You  must  amend  your  drunkenness." 
so  Sir  To.  Out,  scab! 
Fab.  Nay,  patience,  or  we  break  the  sinews  of 

our  plot. 
Mai.  "Besides,  you  waste  the  treasure  of  your 

time  with  a  foolish  knight," — 
»Sir  And.  That's  me,  I  warrant  you. 
Mai.  "One  Sir  Andrew,"— 
Sir  And.  I  knew  'twas  I;  for  many  do  call  me 

fool. 
Mai.  What  employment  have  we  here? 

[Talcing  up  the  letter, 

wFab.  Now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 
Sir  To.  0,  peace,  and  the  spirit  of  humours  inti- 
mate reading  aloud  to  him ! 

Mai.  By  my  life,  this  is  my  lady's  hand.     These 
be  her  very  C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's;  and 
95         thus  makes  she  her  great  P's.     It  is,  in  con- 
tempt of  question,  her  hand. 
Sir  And.  Her   C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's:  why 

that? 

Mai.   [Reads.]  "To  the  unknown  beloved,  this, 
too         and   my  good   wishes": — her  very  phrases! 
By  your  leave,  wax.    Soft !    And  the  impres- 
sure  her   Lucrece,  with  which  she  uses  to 
seal.     'Tis  my  lady.    To  whom  should  this  be? 


92  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  II.  So.  v. 

Fa b.  This  wins  him,  liver  and  all. 

Mai.  [Reads.] 

Jove  knows  I  love;  «£ 

But  who? 

Lips,  do  not  move; 
No  man  must  know. 

"No  man  must  know."    What  follows?    The 
numbers  altered!      "No  man  must  know!"  no 
If  this  should  be  thee,  Malvolio? 

Sir  To.  Marry,  hang  thee,  brock! 

Mai.   [Reads.] 

I  may  command  where  I  adore ; 

But  silence,  like  a  Lucrece  knife, 
With  bloodless  stroke  my  heart  doth  gore.       n*> 
M,  0,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life. 

Fab.  A  fustian  riddle! 

Sir  To.  Excellent  wench,  say  I. 

Mai  "M,   0,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life."     Nay, 
but  first,  let  me  see,  let  me  see,  let  me  see.  120 

Fab.  What  dish  o'  poison  has  she  dressed  him! 

Sir  To.  And  with  what  wing  the  staniel  checks 
at  it! 

Mai.  "I  may  command  where  I  adore."     Why, 
she  may  command  me.     I  serve  her.     She  is  125 
my  lady.     Why,  this  is  evident  to  any  formal 
capacity,    there   is   no    obstruction    in   this. 
And  the  end, — what  should  that  alphabetical 
position    portend?     If    I    could   make   that 
resemble  something  in  me,— Softly!     M,  0,  iso 
A,  I,- 


ACT  II.  Sc.  v.J     TWELFTH  NIGHT,  93 

Sir  To.  0,  ay,  make  up  that.  He  is  now  at  a 
cold  scent. 

Fab.   Sowter  will  cry  upon't  for  all  this,  though 
135         it  be  as  rank  as  a  fox. 

Mai.  M, — Malvolio;  M, — why,  that  begins  my 
name. 

Fab.  Did  not  I  say  he  would  work  it  out?     The 

cur  is  excellent  at  faults. 

uo  Mai.  M, — but  then  there  is  no  consonancy  in  the 
sequel.  That  suffers  under  probation.  A 
should  follow,  but  0  does. 

Fab.  And  0  shall  end,  I  hope. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  or  I'll  cudgel  him,  and  make  him 
145         cry  0 ! 

Mai.  And  then  I  comes  behind. 

Fab.  Ay,  an  you  had  any  eye  behind  you,  you 
might  see  more  detraction  at  your  heels  than 
fortunes  before  you. 

150 Mai.  M,  0,  A,  I;  this  simulation  is  not  as  the 
former.  And  yet,  to  crush  this  a  little,  it 
would  bow  to  me,  for  every  one  of  these 
letters  are  in  my  name.  Soft !  here  follows 
prose.  [Reads.]  "If  this  fall  into  thy  hand, 
155  revolve.  In  my  stars  I  am  above  thee,  but 
be  not  afraid  of  greatness.  Some  are  born 
great,  some  achieve  greatness,  and  some  have 
greatness  thrust  upon  'em.  Thy  Fates  open 
their  hands,  let  thy  blood  and  spirit  embrace 
160  them;  and,  to  inure  thy  self  to  what  thou 
art  like  to  be,  cast  thy  humble  slough  and 


94:  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  II.  So.  v. 

appear  fresh.  Be  opposite  with  a  kinsman, 
surly  with  servants^  let  thy  tongue  tang 
arguments  of  state;  put  thyself  into  the 
trick  of  singularity:  she  thus  advises  theeies 
that  sighs  for  thee.  Eemember  who  com- 
mended thy  yellow  stockings,  and  wished  to 
see  thee  ever  cross-gartered.  I  say,  remem- 
ber. Go  to,  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest 
to  be  so ;  if  not,  let  me  see  thee  a  steward  rro 
still,  the  fellow  of  servants,  and  not  worthy 
to  touch  Fortune's  fingers.  Farewell.  She 
that  would  alter  services  with  thee, 

THE  FOKTUNATE  UNHAPPY." 

Daylight  and  champaign  discovers  not  more.  175 
This  is  open.  I  will  be  proud,  I  will  read 
politic  authors,  I  will  baffle  Sir  Toby,  I 
will  wash  off  gross  acquaintance,  I  will  be 
point-devise  the  very  man.  I  do  not  now 
fool  myself,  to  let  imagination  jade  me;  foriso 
every  reason  excites  to  this,  that  my  lady 
loves  me.  She  did  commend  my  yellow 
stockings  of  late,  she  did  praise  my  leg  being 
cross-gartered;  and  in  this  she  manifests 
herself  to  my  love,  and  with  a  kind  ofi85 
injunction  drives  me  to  these  habits  of  her 
liking.  I  thank  my  stars  I  am  happy.  I 
will  be  strange,  stout,  in  yellow  stockings, 
and  cross-gartered,  even  with  the  swiftness 
of  putting  on.  Jove  and  my  stars  be  praised!  iw 


ACT  II.  So.  v.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  95 

Here  is  yet  a  postscript.  [Reads.]  ''Thou 
canst  not  choose  but  know  who  I  am.  If 
thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  it  appear  in 
thy  smiling.  Thy  smiles  become  thee  well; 
195  therefore  in  my  presence  still  smile,  dear  my 
sweet,  I  prithee." 

Jove,  I  thank  thee.     I  will  smile;  I  will 
do  everything  that  thou  wilt  have  me. 

[Exit. 

Fab.  I  will  not  give  my  part  of  this  sport  for  a 
200         pension  of  thousands  to  be  paid   from  the 

Sophy. 
Sir    To.    I    could    marry   this  wench    for    this 

device — 

Sir  And.  So  could  I  too. 
205  Sir  To.  And  ask  no  other  dowry  with  her  but 

such  another  jest. 
Sir  And.  Nor  I  neither. 
Fab.   Here  comes  my  noble  gull-catcher. 

Re-enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Wilt  thou  set  thy  foot  o'  my  neck? 
210  Sir  And.  Or  o'  mine  either? 

Sir  To.  Shall  I  play  my  freedom  at  tray-trip,  and 

become  thy  bond-slave? 
Sir  And.  I'  faith,  or  I  either? 
Sir    To.    Why,    thou   hast   put   him   in   such   a 
215         dream,  that  when  the  image  of  it  leaves  him 

he  must  run  mad. 

Mar.  Nay,   but   say  true.     Does   it  work  upon 
him? 


96  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  II.  So.  v. 

Sir  To.  Like  aqua-vita  with  a  midwife. 

Mar.  If  you  will  then  see  the  fruits  of  the  sport,  220 
mark    his   first   approach    before   my  lady. 
He  will  come  to  her  in  yellow  stockings,  and 
'tis  a  colour  she  abhors,  and  cross-gartered, 
a  fashion  she  detests;  and  he  will  smile  upon 
her,  which  will  now  be  so  unsuitable  to  her  225 
disposition,  being  addicted  to  a  melancholy 
as  she  is,  that  it  cannot  but  turn  him  into  a 
notable  contempt.     If  you  will  see  it,  follow 
me. 

Sir  To.  To  the  gates  of  Tartar,  thou  most  excel- 230 
lent  devil  of  wit ! 

Sir  And.  I'll  make  one  too.  [Exeunt. 


ACT   THEEE. 

SCENE  I. 

Olivia's  garden. 

Enter  Viola,  and  Clown,  with  a  tabor. 

Vio.  Save  thee,  friend,   and   thy  music!     Dost 

thou  live  by  thy  tabor? 
Clo.  No,  sir,  I  live  by  the  church. 
Vio.  Art  thou  a  churchman? 
5  Clo.    No   such    matter,    sir.     I   do  live  by   the 

church;  for  I  do  live  at  my  house,  and  my 

house  doth  stand  by  the  church. 
Vio.    So   thou   mayst   say,    the   king   lies   by   a 

beggar,  if  a  beggar  dwells  near  him ;  or,  the 
10         church  stands   by  thy   tabor,   if   thy   tabor 

stand  by  the  church. 
Clo.  You  have  said,   sir.     To  see  this  age!     A 

sentence  is  but  a  cheveril  glove  to  a  good  wit. 

How  quickly  the  wrong  side  may  be  turned 
15         outward ! 

Vio.  Nay,  that's  certain.    They  that  dally  nicely 

with  words  may  quickly  make  them  wanton. 
Clo.  I  would,  therefore,   my  sister  had  had  no 

name,  sir. 
20  Vio.  Why,  man? 

Clo.  Why,  sir,  her  name's  a  word,  and  to  dally 

97 


98  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  III.  Sc.  i. 

with  that  word  might  make  my  sister  wanton. 

But  indeed  words  are  very  rascals  since  bonds 

disgraced  them. 

Vio.  Thy  reason,  man?  25 

Clo.  Troth,    sir,    I   can  yield  you  none  without 

words;  and  words  are  grown   so  false,  I  am 

loath  to  prove  reason  with  them. 
Vio.  I  warrant  thou  art  a  merry  fellow  and  cares;4" 

for  nothing.  so 

Clo.  Not  so,  sir,  I  do  care  for  something;  but  in 

my  conscience,   sir,   I  do  not  care  for  you. 

If  that  be  to  care  for  nothing,  sir,  I  would  it 

would  make  you  invisible. 

Vio.  Art  not  thou  the  Lady  Olivia's  fool?  au 

Clo.  No,  indeed,    sir;    the  Lady    Olivia   has   no 

folly.     She  will  keep  no  fool,  sir,  till  she  be 

married;  and  fools  are  as  like  husbands  as 

pilchards  are  to  herrings,  the  husband's  the 

bigger.     I  am  indeed  not  her  fool,  but  her40 

corrupter  of  words. 

Vio.  I  saw  thee  late  at  the  Count  Orsino's. 
Clo.  Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb  like  the 

sun,  it  shines  every  where.    I  would  be  sorry, 

sir,  but  the  fool  should  be  as  oft  with  your  45 

master  as  with  my  mistress.     I  think  I  saw 

your  wisdom  there. 
Vio.  Nay,  an  thou  pass  upon  me,  I'll  no  more 

with  thee.     Hold,  there's  expenses  for  thee. 
Clo.  Now  Jove,  in  his  next  commodity  of  hair,  so 

send  thee  a  beard! 


ACT  III.  So.  i.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  99 

Vio.  By  my  troth,  I'll  tell  thee,  I  am  almost  sick 
for  one, — [Aside.]  though  I  would  not  have 
it  grow  on  my  chin.     Is  thy  lady  within? 
55  Clo.  Would  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir? 
Vio.  Yes,  being  kept  together  and  put  to  use. 
Clo.  I  would  play  Lord  Pandarus  of  Phrygia,  sir, 

to  bring  a  Cressida  to  this  Troilus. 
Vio.  I  understand  you,  sir.     'Tis  well  begged. 
60  Clo.  The  matter,  I  hope,  is  not  great,  sir,  begging 
but  a  beggar.     Cressida  was  a  beggar.     My 
lady  is  within,  sir.     I  will  construe  to  them 
whence  you  come.     Who  you  are  and  what 
you  would  are  out  of  my  welkin-  -I  might  say 
85         "element,"  but  the  word  is  overworn.    [Exit. 
Vio.  This  fellow  is  wise  enough  to  play  the  fool, 
And  to  do  that  well  craves  a  kind  of  wit. 
He  must  observe  their  mood  on  whom  he  jests, 
The  quality  of  persons,  and  the  time, 
TO         And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather 
That  comes  before  his  eye.    This  is  a  practice 
As  full  of  labour  as  a  wise  man's  art; 
For  folly  that  he  wisely  shows  is  fit ; 
But  wise  men,  folly -fallen,  quite  taint  theii 
wit. 

Enter  Sir  Toly,  and  Sir  Andrew. 

75  Sir  To.  Save  you,  gentleman. 
Vio.  And  you,  sir. 

Siv  And.  Dieu  vous  garde,  monsieur; 
Vio.  Etvousaussi;  votre  serviteur. 


100  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  III.  Sc.  i. 

Sir  And.  I  hope,  sir,  you  are;  and  I  am  yours. 
Sir  To.  Will  you  encounter  the  house?    My  niece  so 

is  desirous  you  should  enter,  if  your  trade  be 

to  her. 
Vio.  I  am  bound  to  your  niece,  sir ;  I  mean,  she 

is  the  list  of  my  voyage. 

Sir  To.  Taste  your  legs,  sir;  put  them  to  motion.  85 
Vio.  My  legs  do  better  understand  me,  sir,  than  I 

understand  what  you  mean  by  bidding  me 

taste  my  legs. 

Sir  To.  I  mean,  to  go,  sir,  to  enter. 
Vio.  I  will  answer  you  with  gait  and  entrance.  90 

But  we  are  prevented. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Most  excellent  accomplished  lady,  the  heavens 
rain  odours  on  you! 

Sir  And.  That  youth's  a  rare  courtier.     "Rain 
odours;"  well.  95 

Vio.  My  matter  hath  no  voice,  lady,  but  to  your 
own  most  pregnant  and  vouchsafed  ear. 

Sir  And.   "Odours,"    "pregnant,"  and  "vouch- 
safed"; I'll  get  'em  all  three  all  ready. 

OH.  Let  the  garden  door  be  shut,  and  leave  me  100 
to   my    hearing.     [Exeunt    Sir    Toby,    Sir 
Andreiv,  and  Maria.]     Give  me  your  hand, 
sir. 

Vio.  My  duty,  madam,  and  most  humble  service. 

Oli.  What  is  your  name?  105 

Vio.   Cesario  is  your  servant's  name,  fair  princess. 


ACT  III.  So.  i.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT  101 

OH.  My  servant,  sir!     'Twas  never  merry  wodd 

Since  lowly  feigning  was  called  compliment. 

You're  servant  to  the  Count  Orsino,  youth. 

•10  Vio.   And  he  is  yours,  and  his  must  needs  be  yours. 

Your    servant's    servant    is    your    servant, 

madam. 
Oil.  For   him,    I   think    not    on   him.     For   his 

thoughts, 
Would  they  were  blanks,  rather  than  filled 

with  me! 

Vio.  Madam,  I  come  to  whet  your  gentle  thoughts 
115         On  his  behalf. 

Oli.  0,  by  your  leave/  I  pray  you, 

I  bade  you  never  speak  again  of  him ; 
But,  would  you  undertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that 
Than  music  from  the  spheres. 

120  Vio.  Dear  lady, — 

Oli.  Give  me  leave,  beseech  you.     I  did  send, 
After  the  last  enchantment  you  did  here, 
A  ring  in  chase  of  you ;  so  did  I  abuse 
Myself,  my  servant,  and,  I  fear  me,  you. 
125         Under  your  hard  construction  must  I  sit, 

To   force  that  on   you,  in  a  shameful  cun- 
ning, 
Which  you  knew  none  of  yours.     What  might 

you  think? 

Have  you  not  set  mine  honour  at  the  stake 
And     baited     it    with    all    the    unmuzzled 
thoughts 


102  ( :  /     TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  III.  Sc.  i. 

That  tyrannous  heart  can  think?     To  one  of  iso 
your  receiving 

Enough  is  shown.     A  cypress,  not  a  bosom, 

Hides  my  heart.     So,  let  me  hear  you  speak. 
Vio.  I  pity  you. 

OU.  That's  a  degree  to  love. 

Vio.  No,  not  a  grize;  for  'tis  a  vulgar  proof, 

That  very  oft  we  pity  enemies.  135 

OU.  Why,  then,  methinks  'tis  time  to  smile  again. 

0  world,  how  apt  the  poor  are  to  be  proud! 
If  one  should  be  a  prey,  how  much  the  better 
To  fall  before  the  lion  than  the  wolf! 

[Clock  strikes. 
The  clock  upbraids  me  with  the  waste  ofuo 

time. 
Be  not  afraid,  good  youth,  I  will  not  have 

you; 
And  yet,   when  wit  and  youth   is  come  to 

harvest, 

Your  wife  is  like  to  reap  a  proper  man. 
There  lies  your  way,  due  west. 
Vio.  Then  westward-ho !     Grace  and  good  dispo- 145 

sition 

Attend  your  ladyship ! 

You'll  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me? 
OK.  Stay! 

1  prithee,  tell  me  what  thou  think'st  of  me. 
Vio.  That  you  do  think  you  are  not  what  you  are.  iso 
OU.  If  I  think  so,  I  think  the  same  of  you. 

Vio.  Then  think  you  right.    I  am  not  what  I  am. 


ACT  III.  So.  i.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  103 

OH.  I  would  you  were  as  I  would  have  you  be! 
Vio.  Would  it  be  better,  madam,  than  I  am? 
185         I  wish  it  might,  for  now  I  am  your  fool. 
Oli.  0,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 
In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip ! 
A  murderous  guilt  shows  not  itself  more  soon 
Than  love   that   would   seem   hid.      Love's 

night  is  noon. 
160         Cesario,  by  the  roses  of  the  spring, 

By  maidhood,  honour,  truth,  and  everything, 
I  love  thee  so,  that,  maugre  all  thy  pride, 
Nor  wit  nor  reason  can  my  passion  hide. 
Do  not  extort  thy  reasons  from  this  clause, 
165         For  that  I  woo,  thou  therefore  hast  no  cause; 
But  rather  reason  thus  with  reason  fetter, 
Love  sought  is  good,  but  given  unsought  is 

better. 
Vio.  By  innocence  I  swear,  and  by  my  youth, 

I  have  one  heart,  one  bosom,  and  one  truth, 
170         And  that  no  woman  has;  nor  never  none 
Shall  mistress  be  of  it,  save  I  alone. 
And  so  adieu,  good  madam;  nevermore 
Will  I  my  master's  tears  to  you  deplore. 
Oli.  Yet  come  again;  for   thou   perhaps   mayst 

move 

ITS         That  heart,  which  now  abhors,  to  like  his 
love.  [Exeunt. 


104  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [ACT  III.  So.  it 

SCENE  II. 
A  room  in  Olivia's  house. 

Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  No,  faith,  I'll  not  stay  a  jot  longer. 

Sir  To.  Thy  reason,  dear  venom,  give  thy  reason. 

Fab.  You   must   needs   yield    your    reason,    Sir 
Andrew. 

Sir  And.  Marry,  I  saw  your  niece  do  more  favours  5 
to  the   count's  serving-man    than   ever   she 
bestowed  upon  me.     I  saw't  i'  the  orchard. 

Sir  To.  Did   she   see    thee   the   while,   old  boy? 
Tell  me  that. 

Sir  And.  As  plain  as  I  see  you  now.  10 

Fab.  This  was  a  great  argument  of  love  in  her 
toward  you. 

Sir  And.   '8  light,  will  you  make  an  ass  o'  me? 

Fab.  I  will  prove  it  legitimate,  sir,  upon  the  oaths 
of  judgment  and  reason.  is 

Sir  To.  And  they  have  been  grand-jurymen  since 
before  Noah  was  a  sailor. 

Fab.  She  did  show  favour  to  the  youth  in  your 
sight  only  to  exasperate  you,  to  awake  your 
dormouse  valour,  to  put  fire  in  your  heart,  20 
and  brimstone  in  your  liver.  You  should 
then  have  accosted  her;  and  with  some  excel- 
lent jests,  fire-new  from  the  mint,  you  should 
have  banged  the  youth  into  dumbness.  This 


ACT  III.  Sc.  ii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  105 

25  was  looked  for  at  your  hand,  and  this  was 
balked.  The  double  gilt  of  this  opportunity 
you  let  time  wash  off,  and  you  are  now 
sailed  into  the  north  of  my  lady's  opinion, 
where  you  will  hang  like  an  icicle  on  a  Dutch- 

so  man's  beard,  unless  you  do  redeem  it  by 
some  laudable  attempt  either  of  valour  or 
policy. 

Sir  And.  An't  be  any  way,  it  must  be  with 
valour;  for  policy  I  hate.  I  had  as  lief  be  a 

86         Brownist  as  a  politician. 

Sir  To.  Why,  then,  build  me  thy  fortv/nes  upon 

the    basis    of    valour.      Challenge    me    the 

count's  youth  to  fight  with  him ;  hurt  him  in 

eleven  places;  my  niece  shall  take  note  of  it; 

40         and  assure  thyself,  there  is  no  love-broker  in 
the  world  can  more  prevail  in  man's  com- 
mendation with  woman  than  report  of  valour. 
Fab.  There  is  no  way  but  this,  Sir  Andrew. 
Sir  And.  Will  either  of  you  bear  me  a  challenge 

45         to  him? 

Sir  To.  Go,  write  it  in  a  martial  hand.  Be  curst 
and  brief.  It  is  no  matter  how  witty,  so  it 
be  eloquent  and  full  of  invention.  Taunt 
him  with  the  license  of  ink.  If  thou  thou'st 

50  him  some  thrice,  it  shall  not  be  amiss;  and 
as  many  lies  as  will  lie  in  thy  sheet  of  paper, 
although  the  sheet  were  big  enough  for  the 
bed  of  Ware  in  England,  set  'em  down.  Go 
about  it.  Let  there  be  gall  enough  in  thy 


106  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [  ACT  III.  Sc.  ii. 

ink.     Though  thou  write  with  a  goose-pen,  a 

no  matter.     About  it. 
Sir  And.  Where  shall  I  find  you? 
Sir  To.  We'll  call  thee  at  the  cubiculo.     Go. 

\Exit  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.  This  is  a  dear  manakin  to  you,  Sir  Toby. 
Sir  To.  I  have  been  dear  to  him,  lad,  some  twoeo 

thousand  strong,  or  so. 
Fab.  We  shall  have  a  rare  letter  from  him.     But 

you'll  not  deliver  't? 
Sir  To.  Never  trust  me,  then ;  and  by  all  means 

stir  on  the  youth  to  an  answer.    I  think  oxen  65 

and  wainropes  cannot  hale  them   together. 

For  Andrew,  if  he  were  opened,  and  you  find 

so  much  blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the 

foot  of  a  flea,  I'll  eat  the  rest  of  the  anatomy. 
Fab.  And  his  opposite,  the  youth,  bears  in  hisro 

visage  no  great  presage  of  cruelty. 

Enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Look,  where  the  youngest  wren  of  nine  f 
comes. 

Mar.  If  you  desire  the  spleen,  and  will  laugh 
yourselves  into  stitches,  follow  me.  Yondre 
gull  Malvolio  is  turned  heathen,  a  very  rene- 
gado ;  for  there  is  no  Christian,  that  means 
to  be  saved  by  believing  rightly,  can  ever 
believe  such  impossible  passages  of  grossness. 
He's  in  yellow  stockings.  30 

Sir  To.  And  cross-gartered? 


ACT  III.  So.  iii.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  107 

Mar.  Most  villanously;  like  a  pedant  that  keeps 

a  school  i'the  church.     I  have  dogged  him 

like  his  murderer.    He  does  obey  every  point 

85         of  the  letter  that  I  dropped  to  betray  him. 

He  does  smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than 

is  in  the  new  map  with  the  augmentation  of 

the  Indies.     You  have  not  seen  such  a  thing 

as  't  is.     I  can  hardly  forbear  hurling  things 

90         at  him.     I  know  my  lady  will  strike  him;  if 

she   do,  he'll    smile  and  take't  for  a  great 

favour. 

Sir  To.  Come,  bring  us,  bring  us  where;  he  is. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

A  street. 
Enter  Sebastian  and  Antonio. 

Seb.  I  would  not  by  my  will  have  troubled  you; 
But,  since  you  make  your  pleasure  of  your 

pains, 

I  will  no  further  chide  you. 
Ant.  I  could  not  stay  behind  you.     My  desire, 
5         More    sharp   than   filed   steel,  did  spur  me 

forth, 

And  not  all  love  to  see  you,  though  so  much 
As  might  have  drawn  one  to  a  longer  voyage, 
But  jealousy  what  might  befall  your  travel, 
Being  skilless  in  these  parts;  which  to  a 
stranger, 


108  TWELFTH  NIGHT.   [ACT  III.  Sc.  iii 

Unguided  and  unfriended,  often  prove  10 

Rough  and  un hospitable.     My  willing  lovef 
The  rather  by  these  arguments  of  fear, 
Set  forth  in  your  pursuit. 

Set.  My  kind  Antonio, 

I  can  no  other  answer  make  but  thanks, 
And   thanks,  and   ever  [thanks.     Too]   oftis 

good  turns 

Are  shuffled  off  with  such  uncurrent  pay ; 
But,  were  my  worth  as  is  my  conscience  firm, 
You   should  find    better   dealing.      What's 

to  do? 
Shall  we  go  see  the  reliques  of  this  town? 

Ant.  To-morrow,    sir.      Best   first   go    see    your 20 
lodging. 

Seb.  I  am  not  weary,  and  'tis  long  to  night. 
I  pray  you,  let  us  satisfy  our  eyes 
With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  do  renown  this  city. 

Ant.  Would  you'd  pardon  me. 

I  do  not  without  danger  walk  these  streets.  25 
Once,  in  a  sea-fight,   'gainst  the  count  his 

galleys 

I  did  some  service;  of  such  note  indeed, 
That  were  I  ta'en  here  it  would  scarce  be 
answered. 

Seb.  Belike  you  slew  great  number  of  his  people? 

Ant.  The  offence  is  not  of  such  a  bloody  nature,  so 
Albeit  the  quality  of  the  time  and  quarrel 
Might  well  have  given  us  bloody  argument. 


ACT  III.  So.  iii.]   TWELFTH  NIGHT.  109 

It  might  have  since  been  answered  in  repaying 
What  we  took  from  them,  which,  for  traffic's 

sake, 

86         Most  of  our  city  did;  only  myself  stood  out, 
For  which,  if  I  be  lapsed  in  this  place, 
I  shall  pay  dear. 

Sett.  Do  not  then  walk  too  open. 

Ant.  It  doth  not  fit  me.      Hold,  sir,  here's  my 

purse. 

In  the  south  suburbs,  at  the  Elephant, 
40         Is  best  to  lodge.     I  will  bespeak  our  diet, 

Whiles  you  beguile  the  time  and  feed  your 

knowledge 
With  viewing  of  the  town.     There  shall  you 

have  me. 

Seb.  Why  I  your  purse? 

Ant.  Haply  your  eye  shall  light  upon  some  toy 
46         Yon  have  desire  to  purchase,  and  your  store, 

I  think,  is  not  for  idle  markets,  sir. 
Seb.  I'll  be  your  purse-bearer  and  leave  you 

For  an  hour. 

Ant.  To  the  Elephant. 

Seb.  I  do  remember. 

[Exeunt. 


110  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  III.  So.  iv. 


SCENE  IV. 

Olivia's  garden. 
Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

OH.  [Aside.]     I  have  sent   after  him;   he  says 
he'll  come; 

How  shall  I  feast  him?    What  hestow  of  him? 

For  youth  is  bought  more  oft  than  begged  or 
borrowed. 

I  speak  too  loud. 

Where  is  Malvolio?     He  is  sad  and  civil,         5 

And    suits    well    for    a    servant    with    my 
fortunes. 

Where  is  Malvolio? 
Mar.  He's  coming,  madam,  but  in  very  strange 

manner.     He  is,  sure,  possessed,  madam. 
Oli.  Why,  what's  the  matter?     Does  he  rave?        10 
Mar.  No,  madam,  he  does  nothing  but  smile. 

Your  ladyship  were  best  to  have  some  guard 

about  you,  if  he  come;  for,  sure,  the  man  is 

tainted  in  's  wits. 

OH.  Go  call  him  hither.     [Exit  Maria.]     I  am  15 
as  mad  as  he, 

If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Malvolio. 

How  now,  Malvolio ! 
Mai.  Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho. 


ACT  III.  So.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  Ill 

Oti.  Smilest  thou? 
20         I  sent  for  thee  upon  a  sad  occasion. 

Mai.  Sad,  lady?  I  could  be  sad.  This  does 
make  some  obstruction  in  the  blood,  this 
cross-gartering;  but  what  of  that?  If  it 
please  the  eye  of  one,  it  is  with  me  as  the 
25  very  true  sonnet  is,  "Please  one,  and  please 
all." 

Oli.  Why,  how  dost  thou,  man?     What  is  the 
matter  with  thee? 

Mai.  Not  black  in  my  mind,  though  yellow  in 
so         my  legs.     It   did   come   to  his  hands,  and 
commands  shall  be  executed.     I  think  we  do 
know  the  sweet  Roman  hand. 

OIL  Wilt  thou  go  to  bed,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  To  bed !  Ay,  sweet  heart.  .   .  . 
85  Oli.  God  comfort  thee !     Why  dost  thou  smile  so 
and  kiss  thy  hand  so  oft? 

Mar.  How  do  you,  Malvolio? 

Mai.   At  your  request !    Yes.   Nightingales  answer 

daws. 

40  Mar.  Why  appear  you  with  this  ridiculous  bold- 
ness before  my  lady? 

Mai.  "Be  not  afraid  of  greatness:"   'twas  well 
writ. 

Oli.  What  meanest  thou  by  that,  Malvolio? 
45 Mai.  "Some  are  born  great," — 

Oli.  Ha! 

MaL  "Some  achieve  greatness,"— 

Oli.  What  sayest  thou? 


112  TWELFTH  NIGHT.   [ACT  III.  Sc.  iv. 

MaL  "And  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon 
them."  50 

Oli.  Heaven  restore  thee ! 

Mai.  "Eememher  who  commended  thy  yellow 
stockings," — 

Oli.  Thy  yellow  stockings! 

Mai.  "And  wished  to  see  thee  cross-gartered. "      55 

Oh.   Cross-gartered! 

Mai.  "Go  to,  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to 
be  so;"— 

Oli.  Am  I  made? 

Mai.   "If  not,  let  me  see  thee  a  servant  still."       eo 

Oli.  Why,  this  is  very  midsummer  madness. 

Enter  Servant. 

Ser.  Madam,  the  young  gentleman  of  the  Count 
Orsino's  is  returned.  I  could  hardly  entreat 
him  back.  He  attends  jour  ladyship's 
pleasure.  65 

Oli.  I'll  come  to  him.  \Exit  Servant. ~\  Good 
Maria,  let  this  fellow  be  looked  to.  Where's 
my  cousin  Toby?  Let  some  of  my  people 
have  a  special  care  of  him.  I  would  not  have 
him  miscarry  for  the  half  of  my  dowry.  TO 

[Exeunt  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Mai.  0,  ho!  do  you  come  near  me  now?  ~No 
worse  man  than  Sir  Toby  to  look  to  me! 
This  concurs  directly  with  the  letter.  She 
sends  him  on  purpose,  that  I  may  appear 
stubborn  to  him,  for  she  incites  me  to  that1® 


ACT  III.  Sc.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  113 

in  the  letter.  "Cast  thy  humble  slough," 
says  she;  "be  opposite  with  a  kinsman,  surly 
with  servants;  let  thy  tongue  tang  with 
arguments  of  state;  put  thyself  into  the  trick 

80  of  singularity;"  and  consequently  sets  down 
the  manner  how ;  as,  a  sad  face,  a  reverend 
carriage,  a  slow  tongue,  in  the  habit  of  some 
sir  of  note,  and  so  forth.  I  have  limed  her; 
but  it  is  Jove's  doing,  and  Jove  make  me 

85  thankful!  And  when  she  went  away  now, 
"Let  this  fellow  be  looked  to";  "fellow!" 
not  Malvolio,  nor  after  my  degree,  but 
"fellow."  Why,  every  thing  adheres  to- 
gether, that  no  dram  of  a  scruple,  no  scruple 

90  of  a  scruple,  no  obstacle,  no  incredulous  or 
unsafe  circumstance — What  can  be  said? 
Nothing  that  can  be  can  come  between  me 
and  the  full  prospect  of  my  hopes.  Well, 
Jove,  not  I,  is  the  doer  of  this,  and  he  is  to 

95         be  thanked. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Sir  Tody  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Which  way  is  he,  in  the  name  of  sanctity? 
If  all  the  devils  of  hell  be  drawn  in  little,  and 
Legion  himself  possessed  him,  yet  I'll  speak 
•  to  him. 

Here  he  is,  here  he  is.     How  is't  with  you, 
sir?     How  is't  with  you,  man? 
Mai.   Go  off;  I  discard  you.     Let  me  enjoy  my 
private.     Go  off. 


114  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Mar.  Lo,  how   hollow  the   fiend   speaks   within 
him !     Did  not  I  tell  you?     Sir  Toby,  my  105 
lady  prays  you  to  have  a  care  of  him. 

Mai.  Ah,  ha!     Does  she  so? 

Sir  To.  Go  to,  go  to;  peace,  peace.     We  must 
deal  gently  with  him.     Let  me  alone.     How 
do    you,    Malvolio?      How    is't    with    you?  no 
What,  man,  defy  the  devil!     Consider,  he's 
an  enemy  to  mankind. 

MaL  Do  you  know  what  you  say? 

Mar.  La  you,  an  you  speak  ill  of  the  devil,  how 
he  takes  it  at  heart!     Pray  God,  he  be  not  115 
bewitched ! 

Fab.  Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  woman. 

Mar.    Marry,    and   it   shall   be   done   to-morrow 
morning  if  I  live.     My  lady  would  not  lose 
. ,  him  for  more  than  I'll  say.  120 

Mai.  How  now,  mistress ! 

Mar.  0  Lord! 

Sir  To.  Prithee,  hold  thy  peace;  this  is  not  the 
way.  Do  you  not  see  you  move  him?  Let 
me  alone  with  him.  125 

Fab.  No  way  but  gentleness ;  gently,  gently.  The 
fiend  is  rough,  and  will  not  be  roughly  used. 

Sir  To.  Why,  how  now,  my  bawcock!  How  dost 
thou,  chuck? 

MaL  Sir!  iso 

Sir  To.  Ay,  " Biddy,  come  with  me."  What, 
man,  'tis  not  for  gravity  to  play  at  cherry-pit 
with  Satan.  Hang  him,  foul  collier! 


ACT  TIL  Sc.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  115 

Mar.  Get  him  to  say  his  prayers,  good  Sir  Toby, 
135         get  him  to  pray. 

Mai.  My  prayers,  minx ! 

Mar.  No,   I  warrant  you,  he  will   not  hear  of 
godliness. 

Mai.  Go,    hang    yourselves    all!     You    are    idle 

HO         shallow  things;  I  am  not  of  your  element. 

You  shall  know  more  hereafter.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Is't  possible? 

Fab.  If  this  were  played  upon  a  stage  now,  J 

could  condemn  it  as  an  improbable  fiction. 
145  Sir  To.  His  very  genius  hath  taken  the  infection 
of  the  device,  man. 

Mar.  Nay,  pursue  him  now,  lest  the  device  take 
air  and  taint. 

Fab.  Why,  we  shall  make  him  mad  indeed, 
iso  Mar.  The  house  will  be  the  quieter. 

Sir  To.  Come,  we'll  have  him  in  a  dark  room 
and  bound.  My  niece  is  already  in  the  belief 
that  he's  mad.  We  may  carry  it  thus,  for 
our  pleasure  and  his  penance,  till  our  very 
155  pastime,  tired  out  of  breath,  prompt  us  to 
have  mercy  on  him;  at  which  time  we  will 
bring  the  device  to  the  bar  and  crown  thee 
for  a  finder  of  madmen.  But  see,  but  see. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.  More  matter  for  a  May  morning. 
100  Sir  And.  Here's  the  challenge,  read  it.     I  war* 
rant  there's  vinegar  and  pepper  in't. 


116  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Fab.  Is't  so  saucy? 

Sir  And.  Ay,  is't,  I  warrant  hirn.     Do  but  read. 

Sir  To.   Give  me.      [Reads.]   "Youth,  whatsover 

thou  art,  thou  art  but  a  scurvy  fellow."         165 
Fab.  Good,  and  valiant. 
Sir  To.    [Reads.]   "Wonder  not,  nor  admire  not 

in  thy  mind,  why  I  do  call  thee  so,  for  I  will 

show  thee  no  reason  for't." 
Fab.  A  good   note.     That  keeps  you   from   them 

blow  of  the  law. 
Sir    To.   [Reads.]    "Thou    comest    to    the   lady 

Olivia,  and  in  my  sight  she  uses  thee  kindly. 

But  thou  liest  in    thy   throat;  that   is   not 

the  matter  I  challenge  thee  for."  175 

fab.  Very  brief,  and  to  exceeding  good  sense — 

less. 
Sir    To.     [Reads.]     "I   will    waylay   thee   going 

home;    where   if   it   be   thy    chance   to   kill 

me," —  iso 

Fab.   Good. 
Sir  To.   [Reads.]  "Thou  killest  me  like  a  rogue 

and  a  villain." 
fab.   Still  you  keep  o'  the  windy  side  of  the  law; 

gOOd.  185 

Sir  To.  [Reads.]  "Fare  thee  well,  and  God  have 
mercy  upon  one  of  our  souls!  He  may  have 
mercy  upon  mine;  but  my  hope  is  better, 
and  so  look  to  thyself.  Thy  friend,  as  thou 
usest  him,  arid  thy  sworn  enemy,  iw 

ANDREW  AGUECHEEK." 


ACT  III.  Sc.  iv.j  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  117 

If  this  letter  move  him  not,  his  legs  cannot. 
I'll  give't  him. 
Mar.  You  may  have  very  fit  occasion  for't.     II o 

195         is  now  in  some  commerce  with  my  lady,  and 

will  by  and  by  depart. 

Sir  To.  Go,  Sir  Andrew,  scout  me  for  him  at 
the  corner  of  the  orchard  like  a  bum-baily. 
So  soon  as  ever  thou  seest  him,  draw;  and, 

200  as  thou  drawest,  swear  horrible;  for  it  comes 
to  pass  oft  that  a  terrible  oath,  with  a  swag- 
gering accent  sharply  twanged  off,  gives  man- 
hood more  approbation  than  ever  proof  itself 
would  have  earned  him.  Away! 

205  Sir  And.  Kay,  let  me  alone  for  swearing.      [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Now  will  not  I  deliver  his  letter;  for  the 

behaviour  of  the  young  gentleman  gives  him 

out  to  be  of  good  capacity  and  breeding;  his 

employment  between  his  lord  and  my  niece 

210  confirms  no  less*  therefore  this  letter,  being 
so  excellently  ignorant,  will  breed  no  terror 
in  the  youth;  he  will  find  it  comes  from  a 
clodpole.  But,  sir,  I  will  deliver  his  chal- 
lenge by  word  of  mouth,  set  upon  Aguecheek 

215  a  notable  report  of  valour,  and  drive  the 
gentleman,  as  I  know  his  youth  will  aptly 
receive  it,  into  a  most  hideous  opinion  of 
his  rage,  skill,  fury,  and  impetuosity.  This 
will  so  fright  them  both  that  they  will 

?&o  kill  one  another  by  the  look,  like  cocka- 
trices. 


118  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  III.  So.  iv. 

Re-enter  Olivia  witli  Viola. 

Fab.  Here  he  comes  with  your  niece.  Give  them 
way  till  he  take  leave,  and  presently  after 
him. 

Sir  To.  I  will  meditate  the  while  upon  some 
horrid  message  for  a  challenge.  225 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby )  Fabian,  and  Maria. 
Oli.  I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone, 
And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  on't. 
There's  some  thing  in  me  that  reproves  my 

fault; 

But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is, 
That  it  but  mocks  reproof.  230 

Vio.  With  the  same  'haviour  that  your  passion 

bears 

Goes  on  my  master's  grief. 

Oli.  Here,  wear  this  jewel  for  me,  'tis  my  picture. 
Eef  use  it  not ;  it  hath  no  tongue  to  vex  you ; 
And  I  beseech  you  come  again  to-morrow.      235 
What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I'll  deny, 
That  honour  saved  may  upon  asking  give? 
Vio.  Nothing  but  this, — your  true  love  for  my 

master. 
Oli.  How  with  mine  honour  may  I  give  him  that 

Which  I  have  given  to  you? 

Vio.  I  will  acquit  you.  240 

Oli.    Well,    come   again   to-morrow.     Fare   thee 

well! 

A  fiend  like  thee  might  bear  my  soul  to  hell. 

[Exit. 


ACT  III.  Sc.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  119 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 
Sir  To.  Gentleman,  God  save  thee! 
Vio.  And  you,  sir. 

245  Sir  To.  That  defence  thou  hast,  betake  thee 
to't.  Of  what  nature  the  wrongs  are  thou 
hast  done  him,  I  know  not ;  but  thy  inter- 
cepter,  full  of  despite,  bloody  as  the  hunter, 
attends  thee  at  the  orchard-end.  Dismount 
250  thy  tuck,  be  yare  in  thy  preparation,  for  tny 

assailant  is  quick,  skilful  and  deadly. 
Vio.  You  mistake,  sir.     I  am  sure  no  man  hath 
any  quarrel  to  me.     My  remembrance  is  very 
free  and  clear  from  any  image  of  offence  done 
255         to  any  man. 

Sir  To.  You'll   find  it  otherwise,  I  assure  you; 

therefore,  if  you  hold  your  life  at  any  price, 

betake  you  to  your  guard ;  for  your  opposite 

hath  in  him  what  youth,  strength,  skill,  and 

260         wrath  can  furnish  man  withal. 

Vio.  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  is  he? 

Sir   To.  He  is  knight,    dubbed  with   unhatched 

rapier  and  on  carpet  consideration;  but  he  is 

a  devil  in  private  brawl.   Souls  and  bodies  hath 

265         he  divorced  three ;  and  his  incensement  at  this 

moment  is  so  implacable,  that  satisfaction  can 

be  none  but  by  pangs  of  death  and  sepulchre. 

Hob,  nob,  is  his  word;  give't  or  take't. 

Vio.  I  will  return  again  into  the  house  and  desire 

270         some  conduct  of  the  lady.     I  am  no  fighter. 

I  have  heard  of  some  kind  of  men  that  put 


120  TWELFTH  NIGHT.    [ACT  III.  Sc.  iv. 

quarrels  purposely  on  others,  to  taste  their 
valour.     Belike  this  is  a  man  01  that  quirk. 

Sir  To.   Sir,  no ;  his  indignation  derives  itself  out 
of  a  very   competent  injury;  therefore,  get 275 
you  on  and  give  him  his  desire.     Back  you 
shall  not  to  the  house,  unless  you  undertake 
that  with  me  which  with  as  much  safety  you 
might  answer  him;  therefore,  on,    or   strip 
your   sword   stark   naked;    for   meddle   you280 
must,  that's  certain,  or  forswear  to  wear  iron 
about  you. 

Vio.  This  is  as  uncivil  as  strange.     I  beseech  you; 
do  me  this  courteous  office,  as  to  know  of  the 
knight  what    my  offence    to  him  is.     It  is  385 
something  of  my  negligence,  nothing  of  my 
purpose. 

Sir  To.  I  will  do  so.  Signor  Fabian,  stay  you  by 
this  gentleman  till  my  return.  [Exit. 

Vio.  Pray  you,  sir,  do  you  know  of  this  matter?  290 

Fab.  I  know  the  knight  is  incensed  against  you, 
even  to  a  mortal  arbitrement,  but  nothing  of 
the  circumstance  more. 

Vio.  I  beseech  you,  what  manner  of  man  is  he? 

Fab.  Nothing  of  that  wonderful  promise,  to  read  295 
him  by  his  form,  as  you  are  like  to  find  him 
in  the  proof  of  his  valour.     He  is,  indeed, 
sir,  the  most  skilful,  bloody,  and  fatal  oppo- 
site that  you  could  possibly  have  found  in  any 
part  of  Illyria.     Will  you  walk  towards  him?3oo 
I  will  make  your  peace  with  him  if  I  can. 


ACT  III.  So.  iv..]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  121 

Vio.   I  shall  be  much  bound  to  you  for't.     I  am 

one  that  had  rather  go  with  sir  priest  than 

sir  knight.     I  care  not  who  knows  so  much 

305         of  my  mettle.  [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby,  with  Sir  Andrew. 
Sir  To.  Why,  man,  he's  a  very  devil;  I  have  not 
seen  such  a  firago.     I  had   a  pass  with  him, 
rapier,  scabbard,  and  all,  and  he  gives  me  the 
stuck  in  with  such  a  mortal  motion,  that  it  is 
3io         inevitable;  and  on  the  answer,  he  pays  you 
as  surely  as  your  feet  hit  the  ground  they 
step  on.     They  say  he  has  been  fencer  to  the 
Sophy. 

Sir  And.  Plague  on't,  I'll  not  meddle  with  him. 
315  Sir   To.  Ay,    but   he  will  not  now  be  pacified. 

Fabian  can  scarce  hold  him  yonder. 

Sir  And.  Plague  on't,  an  I  thought  he  had  been 

valiant  and  so  cunning  in  fence,   I'd  have 

seen  him  damned  ere  I'd   have  challenged 

320         him.     Let  him  let  the  matter  slip,  and  I'll 

give  him  my  horse,  grey  Capilet. 
Sir  To.  I'll  make  the  motion.     Stand  here;  make 
a  good  show  on't.     This  shall  end  without 
the  perdition  of  souls.      [Aside.]  Marry,  I'll 
825         ride  your  horse  as  well  as  I  ride  you. 

Re-enter  Fabian  and  Viola. 
[To  Fab.]  I  have  his  horse  to  take  up  the 
quarrel.     I  have  persuaded  him  the  youth's  a 
devil. 


122  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  I  ACT  HI.  So.  iv. 

Fab.    He  is  as  horribly  conceited  of   him ;  and 
pants  and  looks  pale,  as  if  a  bear  were  at  his  330 
heels. 

Sir  To.  [To  Vio.]  There's  no  remedy,  sir;  he 
will  fight  with  you  for  's  oath  sake.  Marry, 
he  hath  better  bethought  him  of  his  quarrel, 
and  he  finds  that  now  scarce  to  be  worth  335 
talking  of;  therefore  draw,  for  the  support- 
ance  of  his  vow.  He  protests  he  will  not 
hurt  you. 

Vio.   [Aside.]    Pray  God    defend   me!     A  little 
thing  would  make  me  tell  them  how  much  1 340 
lack  of  a  man. 

Fab.  Give  ground,  if  you  see  him  furious. 

Sir  To.  Gome,  Sir  Andrew,  there's  no  remedy; 
the  gentleman  will,  for  his  honour's  sake, 
have  one  bout  with  you.  He  cannot  by  the  345 
duello  avoid  it ;  but  he  has  promised  me,  as 
he  is  a  gentleman  and  a  soldier,  he  will  not 
hurt  you.  Come  on;  to't. 

Sir  And.  Pray  God,  he  keep  his  oath! 

Vio.  I  do  assure  you,  'tis  against  my  will.  asc 

[They  draw. 

Enter  Antonio. 

Ant.  Put  up  your  sword.     If  this  young  gentle 
man 

Have  done  offence,  I  take  the  fault  on  me; 

If  you  offend  him,  I  for  him  defy  you. 
Sir  To.  You,  sir!  Why,  what  are  you? 


ACT  III.  Sc.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  123 

355  A nt.  One,  sir,  that  for  his  love  dares  yet  do  more 
Than  you  have  heard  him  brag  to  you  he 

will 

Sir  To.  Nay,  if  you  be  an  undertaker,  I  am  for 
you.  [They  draw. 

Enter  Officers. 

Fab.   0  good  Sir  Toby,   hold!     Here  come  the 

officers, 
seo  Sir  To.  I'll  be  with  you  anon. 

Vio.  Pray,  sir,  put  your  sword  up,  if  you  please. 
Sir   And.   Marry,    will   I,    sir;  and,    for   that    I 
promised  you,  I'll  be  as  good  as  my  word. 
He  will  bear  you  easily  and  reins  well. 
365 First  Off.  This  is  the  man;  do  thy  office. 

Sec.    Off.  Antonio,  I  arrest   thee  at  the  suit  of 

Count  Orsino. 

Ant.  You  do  mistake  me,  sir. 
First  Off.  No,  sir,  no  jot.     I  know  your  favour 

well, 
STO         Though  now  you  have  no  sea-cap  on  your 

head. 

Take  him  away;  he  knows  I  know  him  well. 
Ant.  I  must  obey.      [To  Vio.]  This  comes  with 

seeking  you. 

But  there's  no  remedy ;  I  shall  answer  it. 
What  will  you  do,  now  my  necessity 
375         Makes   me  to   ask   you   for   my   purse?     It 

grieves  me 
Much  more  for  what  I  cannot  do  for  you 


124  TWELFTH  NIGHT.   [ACT  III.  Sc.  iv. 

Than    what     befalls     myself.      You     stand 
amazed, 

But  be  of^comfort. 
Sec.  Off.   Come,  sir,  away. 

Ant.  I  must  entreat  of  you  some  of  that  money.  380 
Vio.   What  money,  sir? 

For  the  fair  kindness  you  have  showed  me 
here, 

And,  part,  being  prompted  by  your  present 
trouble, 

Out  of  my  lean  and  low  ability 

I'll  lend  you  something.     My  having  is  not 385 
much. 

I'll  make  division  of  my  present  with  you. 

Hold,  there's  half  my  coffer. 
Ant.  Will  you  deny  me  now? 

Is't  possible  that  my  deserts  to  you 

Can   lack   persuasion?     Do   not    tempt    my 
misery, 

Lest  that  it  make  me  so  unsound  a  man         390 

As  to  upbraid  you  with  those  kindnesses 

That  I  have  done  for  you. 
Vio.  I  know  of  none, 

Nor  know  I  you  by  voice  or  any  feature. 

I  hate  ingratitude  more  in  a  man 

Than  lying,  vainness,  babbling,  drunkenness,  395 

Or  any  taint  of  vice  whose  strong  corruption 

Inhabits  our  frail  blood. 

Ant.  0  heavens  themselves! 

Sec.  Off.  Come,  sir,  I  pray  you,  go. 


ACT  III.  So.  iv.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  125 

Ant.  Let  me  speak  a  little.     This  youth  that  you 

see  here 

<oo         I  snatched  one  half  out  of  the  jaws  of  death, 
Eelieved  him  with  such  sanctity  of  love, 
And    to   his    image,    which   methought    did 

promise 

Most  venerable  worth,  did  I  devotion. 
First  Off.  What's  that  to  us?    The  time  goes  by; 

away! 
405  Ant.  But  0  how  vile  an  idol  proves  this  god ! 

Thou   hast,    Sebastian,    done    good    feature 

shame. 

In  nature  there's  no  blemish  but  the  mind; 

None  can  be  called  deformed  but  the  unkind. 

Virtue  is  beauty,  but  the  beauteous  evil 

4io         Are  empty  trunks  o'erflourished  by  the  devil. 

First  Off.  The  man  grows  mad;  away  with  him! 

Come,  come,  sir. 

Ant.  Lead  me  on.  [Exit  with  Officers. 

Vio.  Methinks  his  words  do  from  such  passion  fly, 
415         That  he  believes  himself ;  so  do  not  I. 
Prove  true,  imagination,  0,  prove  true, 
That  I,  dear  brother,  be  now  ta'en  for  you! 
Sir    To.     Come    hither,     knight;    come    hither, 
Fabian  ;  we'll  whisper  o'er  a  couplet  or  two  of 
420         most  sage  saws. 

Vio.  He  named   Sebastian.     I  my  brother  know 
Yet  living  in  my  glass;  even  such  and  so 
In  favour  was  my  brother,  and  he  went 
Still  in  this  fashion,  colour,  ornament, 


126  -rWELuTH  iSIGHT.    [ACT  III.  So.  iv. 

For  him  I  imitate.     0,  if  it  prove,  425 

Tempests  are  kind  and  salt  waves  fresh  in 
love.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.  A  very  dishonest  paltry  boy,  and  more  a 
coward  than  a  hare.     His  dishonesty  appears 
in  leaving  his  friend  here  in  necessity  and 
denying  him;  and,  for  his  cowardship,  ask43o 
Fabian. 

Fab.  A  coward,  a  most  devout  coward,  religious 
in  it. 

Sir  And.   'Slid,  I'll  after  him  again  and  beat  him. 

Sir  To.  Do;  cuff  him  soundly,  but  never  draw 435 
thy  sword. 

Sir  And.  An  I  do  not, —  [Exit. 

Fab.  Come,  let's  see  the  event. 

Sir  To.  I  dare  lay  any  money  'twill  be  nothing 
yet.  [Exeunt.  44c 


ACT  FOURTH. 

SCENE  I. 

Before  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sebastian  and  Clown. 

Glo.  Will  you  make  me  believe  that  I  am  not  sent 
for  you? 

Seb.  Go  to,  go  to,  thou  art  a  foolish  fellow;  let 

me  be  clear  of  thee. 

5  Clo.  Well  held  out,  i'  faith!     No,  I  do  not  know 
you ;  nor  I  am  not  sent  to  you  by  my  lady, 
to  bid  you  come  speak  with  her ;  nor  your 
name  is  not  Master  Cesario ;  nor  this  is  not 
my  nose  neither.     Nothing  that  is  so  is  so. 
10  Seb.  I  prithee,  vent  thy  folly  somewhere  else. 
Thou  know'st  not  me. 

Clo.  Vent  my  folly!  He  has  heard  that  word  of 
some  great  man  and  now  applies  it  to  a  fool. 
Vent  my  folly !  I  am  afraid  this  great  lub- 
15  her,  the  world,  will  prove  a  cockney.  I 
prithee  now,  ungird  thy  strangeness  and  tell 
me  what  I  shall  vent  to  my  lady.  Shall  I 
vent  to  her  that  thou  art  coming? 

tieb.  I  prithee,  foolish  Greek,  depart  from  me. 
20         There's  money  for  thee.    If  you  tarry  longer, 
1  shall  give  worse  payment. 

5  J27 


128  TWELFTH  NIGHT.      [AcTlV.  So.  i. 

C70.  By  my  troth,  thou  hast  an  open  hand. 
These  wise  men  that  give  fools  money  get 
themselves  a  good  report — after  fourteen 
years'  purchase.  25 

Enter  Sir  Andrew ,  Sir  Toby,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.    Now,    sir,    have    I    met   you    again? 

There's  for  you. 
Seb.  Why,  there's  for  thee,  and  there,  and  there. 

Are  all  the  people  mad? 
Sir  To.  Hold,  sir,  or  I'll  throw  your  dagger  o'er  30 

the  house. 
670.  This  will  I  tell  my  lady  straight.     I  would 

not  be  in  some  of  your  coats  for  two  pence. 

[Exit. 

Sir  To.  Come  on,  sir.     Hold ! 
Sir  And.  Nay,  let  him  alone.     I'll  go  another  35 

way  to  work  with  him.     I'll  have  an  action 

of  battery  against  him,  if  there  be  any  law  in 

Illyria.     Though  I  struck  him  first,  yet  it's 

no  matter  for  that. 

Seb.  Let  go  thy  hand.  40 

Sir  To.  Come,  sir,  I  will  not  let  you  go.     Come, 

my  young  soldier,  put  up  your  iron;  you  are 

well  fleshed.     Come  on. 

Seb.  I  will  be   free  from   thee.     What   wouldst 
thou  now? 

If  thou  darest  tempt  me  further,  draw  thy  45 

sword. 
Sir  To.  What,  what?     Nay,  then  I  must  have  an 


ACT  IV  Sc.  i.]     TWELFTH  NIGHT.  129 

ounce  or  two  of  this  malapert  blood   from, 
you, 

Enter  Olivia. 

Oli.  Hold,   Toby!     On  thy  life   I   charge   thee, 

hold! 
50  Sir  To.  Madam — 

Oli.  Will  it  be  ever  thus?     Ungracious  wretch, 
Fit   for  the    mountains   and   the  barbarous 

caves, 
Where  manners  ne'er  were  preached!     Out 

of  my  sight ! 

Be  not  offended,  dear  Cesario. 
65         Kudesby,  be  gone ! 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 
I  prithee,  gentle  friend, 
Let  thy  fair  wisdom,  not  thy  passion,  sway 
In  this  uncivil  and  unjust  extent 
Against  thy  peace.     Go  with  me  to  my  house, 
And  hear   thou   there  how    many  fruitless 

pranks 
eo         This   ruffian   hath   botched   up,    that    thou 

thereby 
Mayst  smile  at  this.     Thou  shalt  not  choose 

but  go. 

Do  not  deny.     Beshrew  his  soul  for  me, 
He  started  one  poor  heart  of  mine  in  thee. 
Seb.    What   relish   is   in   this?      How   runs    the 

stream? 
65          Or  I  am  mad,  or  else  this  is  a  dream. 


130  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  [ACT  F7.  Sc.  ii. 

Let  fancy  still  my  sense  in  Lethe  steep. 
If  it  be  thus  to  dream,  still  let  me  sleep ! 
Oli.  Nay,  come,  I  prithee.     Would  thou'dst  be 

ruled  by  me! 
Seb.  Madam,  I  will. 
Oti.  0,  say  so,  and  so  be! 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  N"ay,  I  prithee,  put  on  this  gown  and  this 
beard.  Make  him  believe  thou  art  Sir  Topas 
the  curate.  Do  it  quickly;  I'll  call  Sir  Toby 
the  whilst.  [Exit. 

C7o<    Well,   I'll  put  it  on,  and  I  will  dissembles 
myself  in't;    and  I  would  I  were  the  first  that 
ever  dissembled  in  such  a  gown.     I  am  not 
tall  enough  to  become  the  function  well,  nor 
lean  enough  to  be  thought  a  good  student; 
but  to  be  said  an  honest  man  and  a  goodie 
housekeeper  goes  as  fairly  as  to  say  a  careful 
man  and  a  great  scholar.     The  competitors 
enter. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  Parson. 
Cio.  Bonos  dies,  Sir  Toby:  for,  as  the  old  hermit  is 
of  Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  very 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  ii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  131 

wittily  said  to  a  niece  of  King  Gorboduc, 
"That  that  is  is";  so  I,  being  master  Parson, 
am  master  Parson;  for,  what  is  "that"  but 
90         "that,"  and  "is"  but  "is"? 
Sir  To.  To  him,  Sir  Topas. 
Clo.  What,  ho,  I  say!     Peace  in  this  prison! 
Sir    To.    The   knave   counterfeits   well;    a   good 

knave. 

25 Mai.  [Within.]  Who  calls  there? 
Clo.  Sir  Topas  the  curate,  who  comes  to   visit 

Malvolio  the  lunatic. 
Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to 

my  lady. 

3o(7/o.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend!  How  vexest  thou 
this  man!  Talkest  thou  nothing  but  of 
ladies? 

'Sir  To.  Well  said,  master  Parson. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged. 

35         Good  Sir  Topas,   do  not  think  I   am   mad. 

They  have  laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

Clo.  Fie,  thou  dishonest  Satan!     I  call  thee  by 

the  most  modest  terms,  for  I  am  one  of  those 

gentle  ones  that  will  use  the  devil  himself 

40         with   courtesy.     Sayest   thou  that  house  is 

dark? 

Mai.  As  hell,  Sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Why,  it  hath  bay  windows  transparent  as 
barricadoes,  and  the  clerestories  toward  the 
45         south  north  are  as  lustrous  as  ebony;  and 
yet  complainest  thou  of  obstruction? 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [ACT  IV.  So.  ii. 

Mai.  I  am  not  mad,  Sir  Topas.     I  say  to  you, 
this  house  is  dark. 

Clo.  Madman,  thou  errest.     I   say,  there   is  no 
darkness  but  ignorance,  in  which  thou  art  so 
more  puzzled  than  the  Egyptians   in   their 
fog. 

Mai.    I   say,    this   house  is    dark   as   ignorance, 
though  ignorance  were  as  dark  as  hell ;  and  I 
say,  there  was  never  man  thus  abused.    I  am  55 
no  more  mad  than  you  are.     Make  the  trial 
of  it  in  any  constant  question. 

Clo.  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concern- 
ing wild  fowl? 

Mai.  That  the  soul  of  our  grandam  might  haply  eo 
inhabit  a  bird. 

Clo.  What  thinkest  thou  of  his  opinion? 

Mai.  I   think   nobly   of   the   soul,    and   no   wa}r 
approve  his  opinion. 

Clo.  Fare  thee  well.     Eemain  thou  still  in  dark-  65 
ness.    Thou  shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythag- 
oras ere  I  will  allow  of  thy  wits,  and  fear  to 
kill  a  woodcock,  lest  thou  dispossess  the  soul 
of  thy  grandam.     Fare  thee  well. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas!  TO 

Sir  To.  My  most  exquisite  Sir  Topas! 

Clo.  Nay,  I  am  for  all  waters. 

Mar.  Thou  mightst  have  done  this  without  thy 
beard  and  gown.     He  sees  thee  not. 

Sir  To.  To  him  in  thine  own  voice,  and  bring  me  75 
word  how  thou   findest   him.     I  would  we 


ACT  IV.  So.  ii.]    TWELFTH  NIGHT.  133 

were  well  rid  of  this  knavery.     If  he  may  be 

conveniently  delivered,  I  would  he  were,  for 

I  am  now  so  far  in  offence  with  my  niece 

so         that  I  cannot  pursue  with  any  safety  this 

sport  to  the  upshot.     Come  by  and  by  to  my 

chamber.  [Exeunt  Sir  Toly  and  Maria. 

Clo.  [Singing.]  "Hey,    Eobin,  jolly  Eobin, 

Tell  me  how  thy  lady  does." 
ffiMal.  Fool! 

Clo.  "My  lady  is  unkind,  perdy. " 
Mai  Fool! 

Clo.  "Alas,  why  is  she  so?" 
Mai.  Fool,  I  say ! 

90  Clo.  "She  loves  another" — Who  calls,  ha? 
Mai.  Good  fool,  as  ever  thou  wilt  deserve  well 
at  my  hand,  help  me  to  a  candle,  and  pen, 
ink,  and  paper.    As  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  will 
live  to  be  thankful  to  thee  for  't. 
95  Clo.  Master  Malvolio? 
Mai.  Ay,  good  fool. 
Clo.  Alas,  sir,  how  fell   you   besides    your  five 

wits? 

Mai.  Fool,  there  was  never  man  so  notoriously 
100         abused.     I  am  as  well  in  my  wits,  fool,  as 

thou  art. 
Clo.  But  as  well?     Then  you  are  mad  indeed,  if 

you  be  no  better  in  your  wits  than  a  fool. 
Mai.  They  have  here  propertied  me,  keep  me  in 
105         darkness,  send  ministers  to  me,  asses,  and  dc 
all  they  can  to  face  me  out  of  my  wits. 


134  TWELFTH  NIGHT.     [Acr.  IV.  So.  ii. 

Clo.  Advise  you  what  you  say;  the  minister  is 
here.  Malvolio,  Malvolio,  thy  wits  the 
heavens  restore !  Endeavour  thyself  to  sleep, 
and  leave  thy  vain  bibble  babble.  no 

Mai.  Sir  Topas ! 

Clo.  Maintain  no  words  with  him,  good  fellow. 
Who,  I,  sir?  Not  I,  sir.  God  buy  you, 
good  Sir  Topas.  Marry,  amen.  I  will,  sir, 
I  will.  115 

Mai.  Fool,  fool,  fool,  I  say! 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  be  patient.  What  say  you,  sir?  I 
am  shent  for  speaking  to  you. 

Mai.  Good  fool,  help  me  to  some  light  and  some 
paper.     I  tell  thee,  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits  120 
as  any  man  in  Illyria. 

Clo.  Well-a-day  that  you  were,  sir! 

Mai.  By  this  hand,  I  am.     Good  fool,  some  ink, 
paper,    and    light;    and  convey  what  I   will 
set  down   to   my  lady.     It   shall    advantage  125 
thee   more  than  ever   the  bearing   of  letter 
did. 

Clo.  I  will  help  you  to't.  But  tell  me  true,  are 
you  not  mad,  indeed,  or  do  you  but  counter- 
feit? 130 

Mai.  Believe  me,  I  am  not.     I  tell  thee  true. 

Clo.  Nay,  I'll  ne'er  believe  a  madman  till  I  see 
his  brains.  I  will  fetch  you  light  and  paper 
and  ink. 

Mai.  Fool,  I'll  requite  it  in  the  highest  degree,  iss 
I  prithee,  be  gone. 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  135 

Clo.   [Singing.]  I  am  gone,  sir, 
And  anon,  sir, 
I'll  be  with  you  again, 
140  In  a  trice, 

Like  to  the  old  Vice, 
Your  need  to  sustain; 

Who,  with  dagger  of  lath, 
In  his  rage  and  his  wrath, 
145  Cries,  ah,  ha!  to  the  devil, 

Like  a  mad  lad. 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad. 

Adieu,  good  man  devil.        [Exit. 


SCENE  III. 

Olivia's  garden. 

Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.  This  is  the  air,  that  is  the  glorious  sun, 

This  pearl  she  gave  me,  I  do  feel't  and  see't; 

And  though  'tis  wonder  that  enwraps  me  thus, 

Yet  'tis  not  madness.  Where's  Antonio,  then? 
>  I  could  not  find  him  at  the  Elephant; 

Yet  there  he  was,  and  there  I  found  this 
credit, 

That  he  did  range  the  town  to  seek  me  out. 

His  counsel  now  might  do  me  golden  service; 

For  though  my  soul  disputes  well  with  my 
sense, 


136  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  [ACT  IV.  So.  iii. 

That  this  may  be  some  error,  but  no  madness,  10 
Yet  doth  this  accident  and  flood  of  fortune 
So  far  exceed  all  instance,  all  discourse, 
That  I  am  ready  to  distrust  mine  eyes 
And  wrangle  with  my  reason  that  persuades 

me 

To  any  other  trust  but  that  I  am  mad  is 

Or  else  the  lady's  mad;  yet,  if  'twere  so, 
She  could  not  sway  her  house,  command  her 

followers, 

Take  and  give  back  affairs  and  their  dispatch 
With   such   a   smooth,  discreet,  and   stable 

bearing 
As  I  perceive  she  does.     There's  something  20 

in't 
That  is    deceivable.      But    here    the    lady 

comes. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Priest. 

OIL  Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine.     If  you  mean 

well, 

Now  go  with  me  and  with  this  holy  man 
Into  the  chantry  by ;  there,  before  him, 
And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof,  25 

Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith, 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace.     He  shall  conceal  it 
Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note, 
What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep  so 

According  to  my  birth.     What  do  you  say? 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii.]  TWELFTH  NIGHT.  137 

Seb.  I'll  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you; 

And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 

OH.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father;  and  heavens 

so  shine. 

8         That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine! 

[Exeunt* 


ACT  FIFTH. 

SCENE  I. 
Before  Olivia? s  house. 

Enter  Clown  and  Fabian. 

Fab.  Now,  as  thou   lovest   me,   let  me   see  his 

letter. 
do.    Good   Master   Fabian,   grant    me    another 

request. 

Fab.  Any  thing.  $ 

Clo.  Do  not  desire  to  see  this  letter. 
Fab.  This  is  to  give  a  dog  and  in   recompense 

desire  my  dog  again. 

Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  Lords. 

Duke.  Belong  you  to  the  Lady  Olivia,  friends? 
Clo.  Ay,  sir,  we  are  some  of  her  trappings.  10 

'  Duke.  I  know  thee  well ;  how  dost  thou,  my  good 

fellow? 
Clo.  Truly,  sir,  the  better  for  my  foes  and  the 

worse  for  my  friends. 
Duke.    Just  the   contrary;    the   better   for    ^,hy  is 

friends. 

Clo.  No,  sir,  the  worse. 
Duke.  How  can  that  be? 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT.  139 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  they  praise  me  and  make  an  ass 

20         of  me.     Now  my  foes  tell  me  plainly  I  am  an 

ass;  so  that  by  my  foes,  sir,  I  profit  in  the 

knowledge  of  myself,  and  by  my  friends  I  am 

abused;  so  that,  conclusions  to  be  as  kisses, 

if  your  four  negatives  make  your  two  affirm- 

25         atives,  why  then,  the  worse  for  my  friends 

and  the  better  for  my  foes. 
Duke.  Why,  this  is  excellent. 
Clo.  By  my  troth,  sir,  no ;  though  it  please  you 

to  be  one  of  my  friends. 
wDuke.    Thou   shalt  not  be    the   worse  for  me. 

There's  gold. 
Clo.  But  that  it  would  be  double-dealing,  sir,  I 

would  you  could  make  it  another. 
"Duke.  0,  you  give  me  ill  counsel. 
35  Clo.  Put  your  grace  in  your  pocket,  sir,  for  this 

once,  and  let  your  flesh  and  blood  obey  it. 
Duke.  Well,  I  will  be  so  much  a  sinner,  to  be  a 

double-dealer.     There's  another. 
Clo.  Primo,  secundo,  tertio,  is  a  good  play;  and 
40         the  old  saying  is,  the  third  pays  for  all.     The 
triplex,  sir,  is  a  good  tripping  measure;  or 
the  bells  of  Saint  Bennet,  sir,  may  put  you 
in  mind;  one,  two,  three. 

Duke.  You  can  fool  no  more  money  out  of  me  at 

45         this  throw.     If  you  will  let  your  lady  know  I 

am  here  to  speak  with  her,  and  bring  her 

along  with  you,  it  may  awake  my  bounty 

further. 


140  TWELFTH  NIGHT.       [ACT  V.  So.  i. 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  lullaby  to  your  bounty  till  I  come 
again.  I  go,  sir,  but  I  would  not  have  you 
to  think  that  my  desire  of  having  is  the  sin 
of  covetousness ;  but,  as  you  say,  sir,  let 
your  bounty  take  a  nap,  I  will  awake  it  anon. 

[Exit. 

Vio.  Here  comes  the  man,  sir,  that  did  rescue 
me. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Officers. 

.  ,,  ,*-«Wl| 

Duke.  That  face  of  his  I  do  remember  well,  « 

.I  i     'i-"  -4  ' 

Yet,  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmeared 
As  black  as  Vulcan  in  the  smoke  of  war. 
A  bawbling  vessel  was  he  captain  of, 
For  shallow  draught  and  bulk  unprizable, 
With   which  such   scathful  grapple   did  heeo 

make 

With  the  most  noble  bottom  of  our  fleet, 
That  very  envy  and  the  tongue  of  loss 
Cried  fame  and  honour  on  him.     What's  the 

matter? 
First  Off.  Orsino,  this  is  that  Antonio 

That  took  the  Phoenix  and  her  fraught  from  65 

Candy, 

And  this  is  he  that  did  the  Tiger  board, 
When  your  young  nephew  Titus  lost  his  leg. 
Here  in  the  streets,  desperate  of  shame  and 

state, 

In  private  brabble  did  we  apprehend  him. 
Vio.  He  did  me  kindness,  sir,  drew  on  my  side,    TO 


ACT  V.  Sc.  i.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  141 

But  in  conclusion  put  strange  speech  upon 

me. 

I  know  not  what  'twas  but  distraction. 
jDu^e./  Notable  pirate !     Thou  salt-water  thief ! 
What  foolish  boldness  brought  thee  to  their 

mercies 
re         Whom  thou,  in  terms  so  bloody  and  so  dear, 

Hast  made  thine  enemies? 

Ant.  Orsino,  noble  sir, 

Be  pleased  that  I  shake  off  these  names  you 

give  me. 

Antonio  never  yet  was  thief  or  pirate, 
Though    I    confess,    on    base    and    ground 

enough, 
so         Orsino's    enemy.      A    witchcraft    drew    me 

hither. 

That  most  ingrateful  boy  there  by  your  side, 
From   the  rude  sea's   enraged    and   foamy 

mouth 

Did  I  redeem.     A  wreck  past  hope  he  was. 
His  life  I  gave  him,  and  did  thereto  add 
85         My  love,  without  retention  or  restraint, 
All  his  in  dedication.     For  his  sake 
Did  I  expose  myself,  pure  for  his  love, 
Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town; 
Drew  to  defend  him  when  he  was  beset; 
90         Where  being  apprehended,  his  false  cunning., 
Not  meaning  to  partake  with  me  in  danger, 
Taught  him  to  face  me  out  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, 


142  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  V.  So.  L 

And  grew  a  twenty  years  removed  thing 
While  one  would  wink ;  denied  me  mine  own 

purse, 

Which  I  had  recommended  to  his  use  95 

Not  half  an  hour  before. 

Vio.  How  can  this  be? 

Duke.  When  came  he  to  this  town? 

Ant.    To-day,  my  lord;   and  for   three   months 

before,  4 

No  interim,  not  a  minute's  vacancy, 
Both  day  and  night  did  we  keep  company.      100 

Enter  Olivia  and  Attendants. 

Duke.    Here   comes   the   countess;   now   heaven 

walks  on  earth. 
But  for  thee,  fellow;  fellow,  thy  words  are 

madness. 
Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon 

me; 

But  more  of  that  anon.     Take  him  aside. 
Oli.  W^hat  would  my  lord,  but  that  he  may  not  105 

have, 

Wherein  Olivia  may  seem  serviceable? 
Cesario,  you  do  not  keep  promise  with  me. 
Vio.  Madam! 
Duke.  Gracious  Olivia, — 

Oli.  What  do  you  say,  Cesario?    Good  my  lord, —  in 
Vio.  My  lord  would  speak ;  my  duty  hushes  me. 
Oli.  If  it  be  aught  to  the  old  tune,  my  lord, 
It  is  as  fat  and  fulsome  to  mine  ear 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]      TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

j^s  howling  after  music. 
Duke.  Still  so  cruel ! 

115  Oli.  Still  so  constant,  lord. 

Duke.  What,  to  perverseness?    You  uncivil  lady, 
To  whose  ingrate  and  unauspicious  altars 
My     soul     the     faithfull'st     offerings    have 

breathed  out 
That  e'er  devotion  tendered!     What  shall  I 

do? 
120  Oli.    Even   what   it   please  my  lord,  that   shall 

^ become  him. 

Duke.\  Why  should  I  not,  had  I  the  heart  to  do  it, 
Like  to  the  Egyptian  thief  at  point  of  death, 
Kill  what  I  love? — a  savage  jealousy 
That  sometime  savours  nobly.     But  hear  me 

this: 

125         Since  you  to  non-regardance  cast  my  faith, 
And  that  I  partly  know  the  instrument 
That  screws  me  from  my  true  place  in  your 

favour, 

Live  you  the  marble-breasted  tyrant  still ; 
But  this  your  minion,  whom  I  know  you  love. 
wo         And   whom,    by   heaven   I  swear,   I  tender 

dearly, 

Him  will  I  tear  out  of  that  cruel  eye, 
Where  he  sits  crowned  in  his  master's  spite. 
Come,  boy,  with  me;  my  thoughts  are  ripe 

in  mischief. 

I'll  sacrifice  the  lamb  that  I  do  love, 
IBS         To  spite  a  raven's  heart  within  a  dova 


144  TWELFTH  NIGHT        [ACT  V.  So.  i. 

Vio.  And  I,  most  jocund,  apt,  and  willingly, 

To  do  you  rest,  a  thousand  deaths  would  die. 
OU.  Where  goes  Cesario? 
Vio.  After  him  I  love 

More  than  I  love  these  eyes,  more  than  my 
life, 

More,  by  all  mores,  than  e'er  I  shall  love  wife.  140 

If  I  do  feign,  you  witnesses  above 

Punish  my  life  for  tainting  of  my  love! 
OU.  Ay  me,  detested!     How  am  I  beguiled! 
Vio.  Who  does  beguile  you?    Who  does  do  you 

wrong? 
OU.  Hast  thou  forgot  thyself?     Is  it  so  long?       145 

Call  forth  the  holy  father. 
DuJce.  Come,  away! 

OU.  Whither,  my  lord?     Cesario,  husband,  stay. 
Duke.  Husband ! 

OU.  Ay,  husband !     Can  he  that  deny? 

UuJce.  Her  husband,  sirrah ! 
Vio.  No,  my  lord,  not  I. 

OU.  Alas,  it  is  the  baseness  of  thy  fear  150 

That  makes  thee  strangle  thy  propriety. 

Fear  not,  Cesario ;  take  thy  fortunes  up. 

Be  that  thou  know'st  thou  art,   and   then 
thou  art 

As  great  as  that  thou  fear'st. 

Enter  Priest. 

0,  welcome,  father! 
Father,  I  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence,         i» 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]        TWELFTH  NIGHT.  14a 

Here  to  unfold,  though  lately  we  intended 
To  keep  in  darkness  what  occasion  now 
Eeveals  before  'tis  ripe,  what  thou  dost  know 
Hath  newly  passed  between  this  youth  and  me. 
m  Priest.  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love, 

Confirmed  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 
Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 
Strengthened   by   interchangement  of    youi 

rings; 

And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 
165         Sealed  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony ; 

Since  when,  my  watch  hath  told  me,  toward 

my  grave 

I  have  travelled  but  two  hours. 
Duke.  0  thou  dissembling  cub !     What  wilt  thou 

be 

When  time  hath  sowed  a  grizzle  on  thy  case? 
170         Or  will  not  else  thy  craft  so  quickly  grow, 

That  thine  own  trip  shall  be  thine  overthrow? 
Farewell,  and  take  her;  but  direct  thy  feet 
Where  thou  and  I  henceforth  may  never 

meet. 

Vio.  My  lord,  I  do  protest — 
Oh.  0,  do  not  swear! 

ITS         Hold  little  faith,  though  thou  hast  too  much 
fear. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  For  the  love  of  God,  a  surgeon! 
Send  one  presently  to  Sir  Toby. 


146  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  V.  So.  L 

Oil.  What's  the  matter? 

Sir  And.  He  has  broke  my  head  across  and  has 

given  Sir  Toby  a  bloody  coxcomb  too.     For  iso 

the  love  of  God,  your  help !     I  had  rather 

than  forty  pound  I  were  at  home. 
Oli.  Who  has  done  this,  Sir  Andrew? 
Sir  And.  The  count's  gentleman,  one  Cesario. 

We  took  him  for  a  coward,  but  he's  the  very  185 

devil  incardinate. 
Duke.  My  gentleman,   Cesario? 
Sir  And.  'Od's  lifelings,  here  he  is!     You  broke 

my  head  for  nothing;  and  that  that  I  did,  I 

was  set  on  to  do't  by  Sir  Toby,  190 

Vio.   Why  do  you  speak  to  me?    I  never  hurt  you. 

You  drew  your  sword  upon  me  without  cause; 

But  I  bespake  you  fair,  and  hurt  you  not. 
Sir  And.  If  a  bloody  coxcomb  be  a  hurt,  you 

have  hurt  me.     I  think  you  set  nothing  by  a  195 

bloody  coxcomb. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Clown. 

Here  comes  Sir  Toby  halting.  You  shall 
hear  more;  but  if  he  had  not  been  in  drink, 
he  would  have  tickled  you  othergates  than 
he  did.  200 

Duke.  How  now,  gentleman!  How  is't  with 
you? 

Sir  To.  That's  all  one.  Has  hurt  me,  and 
there's  the  end  on't.  Sot,  didst  see  Dick 
surgeon,  sot? 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  147 

SOB  Clo.  0,  he's  drunk,   Sir  Toby,  an  hour   agone. 

His  eyes  were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning. 
Sir  To.  Then  he's  a  rogue,  and  a  passy  measures 

pavin.     I  hate  a  drunken  rogue. 
Oli.    Away   with   him!     Who   hath    made    this 
210         havoc  with  them? 

Sir  And.  I'll  help  you,  Sir  Toby,  because  we'll 

be  dressed  together. 

Sir  To.  Will  you  help?     An  ass-head  and  a  cox- 
comb and  a  knave,  a  thin-faced  knave,  a  gull ! 
215  Oli.  Get  him  to  bed,  and  let  his  hurt  be  looked  to. 
[Exeunt  Clown,  Fabian,  Sir  Toby,  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.  I  am  sorry,  madam,  I  have  hurt  your  kins- 
man; 

But,  had  it  been  the  brother  of  my  blood, 
I  must  have  done  no  less  with  wit  and  safety. 
You  throw  a  strange  regard  upon  me,  and 

by  that 
220         I  do  perceive  it  hath  offended  yon. 

Pardon  me,  sweet  one,  even  for  the  vows 
We  made  each  other  but  so  late  ago. 
Duke.  One  face,  one  voice,  one  habit,  and  two 

persons, 

A  natural  perspective,  that  is  and  is  not! 
225  Seb.  Antonio,  0  my  dear  Antonio ! 

How  have  the  hours  racked  and  tortured  me, 
Since  I  have  lost  thee ! 
Ant.  Sebastian  are  you? 
Seb.  Fear'st  thou  that,  Antonio? 


148  TWELFTH  NIGHT.       [ACT  V.  Sc.  i. 

Ant.  How  have  you  made  division  of  yourself? 

An  apple,  cleft  in  two,  is  not  more  twin          230 
Than  these  two  creatures.     Which  is  Sebas- 
tian? 

OH.  Most  wonderful ! 

Seb.  Do  I  stand  there?     I  never  had  a  brother, 
Nor  can  there  be  that  deity  in  my  nature, 
Of  here  and  every  where.     I  had  a  sister,        235 
Whom   the  blind    waves    and    surges    have 

devoured. 

Of  charity,  what  kin  are  you  to  me? 
What    countryman?      What    name?     What 
parentage? 

Vio.  Of  Messaline;  Sebastian  was  my  father; 

Such  a  Sebastian  was  my  brother  too ;  240 

So  went  he  suited  to  his  watery  tomb. 
If  spirits  can  assume  both  form  and  suit 
You  come  to  fright  us. 

Sri.  A  spirit  I  am  indeed; 

But  am  in  that  dimension  grossly  clad 
Which  from  my  birth  I  did  participate.  245 

Were  you  a  woman,  as  the  rest  goes  even, 
I  should  my  tears  let  fall  upon  your  cheek, 
And  say,  "Thrice  welcome,  drowned  Viola!" 

Vio.  My  father  had  a  mole  upon  his  brow. 

Seb.  And  so  had  mine.  250 

Vio.  And  died  that  day  when  Viola  from  her 

birth 
Had  numbered  thirteen  years. 

Set.  0,  that  record  is  lively  in  my  soul! 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  H9 

He  finished  indeed  his  mortal  act 
855         That  day  that  made  my  sister  thirteen  years 
Vio.  If  nothing  lets  to  make  us  happy  both 
But  this  my  masculine  usurped  attire, 
Do  not  embrace  me  till  each  circumstance 
Of  place,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere  and  jump 
260         That  I  am  Viola ;  which  to  confirm, 

I'll  bring  you  to  a  captain  in  this  town, 
Where  lie  my  maiden  weeds ;  by  whose  gentle 

help 

I  was  preserved  to  serve  this  noble  count. 
All  the  occurrence  of  my  fortune  since 
265         Hath  been  between  this  lady  and  this  lord. 
Sel.  [To   Olivia.'}  So   comes  it,  lady,  you  have 

been  mistook; 

But  nature  to  her  bias  drew  in  that. 
You  would  have  been  contracted  to  a  maid; 
Nor  are  you  therein,  by  my  life,  deceived, 
270         You  are  betrothed  both  to  a  maid  and  man. 
"  Duke.  Be  not  amazed,  right  noble  is  his  blood. 
If  this  be  so,  as  yet  the  glass  seems  true, 
I  shall  have  share  in  this  most  happy  wreck. 
[To    Viola.]  Boy,    thou   hast   said  to  me  a 

thousand  times 

275         Thou  never  shouldst  love  woman  like  to  me. 
Vio.  And  all  those  sayings  will  I  over-swear; 

And  all  those  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soul 
As  doth  that  orbed  continent  the  fire 

. That  severs  day  from  night, 

Duke.  Give  me  thy  hand, 


J50  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [Acr  V.  So.  i. 

And  let  me  see  thee  in  thy  woman's  weeds,  sso 
Vio.  The  captain  that  did  bring  me  first  on  shore 
Hath  my  maid's  garments.     He  upon  some 

action 

Is  now  in  durance,  at  Malvolio's  suit, 
A  gentleman,  and  follower  of  my  lady's. 
Oli.  He  shall  enlarge  him ;  fetch  Malvolio  hither.  28S 
And  yet,  alas,  now  I  remember  me, 
They  say,  poor  gentleman,  he's  much  dis- 
tract. 

Re-enter  Clown  with  a  letter ',  and  Fabian. 

A  most  extracting  frenzy  of  mine  own 
From  my  remembrance  clearly  banished  his. 
How  does  he,  sirrah?  290 

do.  Truly,  madam,  he  holds  Belzebub  at  the 
stave's  end  as  well  as  a  man  in  his  case  may 
do.  Has  here  writ  a  letter  to  you.  I  should 
have  given't  you  to-day  morning,  but  as  a 
madman's  epistles  are  no  gospels,  so  it  skills  295 
not  much  when  they  are  delivered. 

OH,  Open't,  and  read  it. 

(Jlo.  Look  then  to  be  well  edified  wlien  the  fool 
delivers  the  madman.  [Reads. ]  "By  the 
Lord,  madam," —  soo 

OU.  How  now,  art  thou  mad? 

CTo.  No,  madam,  I  do  but  read  madness.  An 
your  ladyship  will  have  it  as  it  ought  to  be, 
you  must  allow  Vox. 

OU.  Prithee,  read  i'  thy  right  wits.  aos 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]        TWELFTH  NIGHT.  151 

Clo.  So  I   do,   madonna;    but  to  read  his  right 
wits  is  to  read  thus ;  therefore  perpend,  my 
princess,  and  give  ear. 
Oil.  Read  it  you,  sirrah.  [To  Fabian. 

mFab.  [Reads.]  "By  the  Lord,  madam,  you 
wrong  me,  and  the  world  shall  know  it. 
Though  you  have  put  me  into  darkness  and 
given  your  drunken  cousin  rule  over  me,  yet 
have  I  the  benefit  of  my  senses  as  well  as 

815  your  ladyship.  I  have  your  own  letter  that 
induced  me  to  the  semblance  I  put  on;  with 
the  which  I  doubt  not  but  to  do  myself  much 
right,  or  you  much  shame.  Think  of  me  as 
you  please.  I  leave  my  duty  a  little  un- 

820         thought  of  and  speak  out  of  my  injury* 

THE  MADLY-USED    MALVQLIO." 

Oli.  Did  he  write  this? 
Clo.  Ay,  madam. 

IDukel  This  savours  not  much  of  distraction. 
825  Oli.  See  him  delivered,  Fabian ;  bring  him  hither. 

[Exit  Fabian. 
My  lord,  so  please  you,  these  things  further 

thought  on, 

To  think  me  as  well  a  sister  as  a  wife, 
One  day   shall   crown  the  alliance    on't,   s0 

please  you, 

Here  at  my  house  and  at  my  proper  cost. 
ej  Madam,  I  am  most  apt  to  embrace  your 
offer. 


V52  TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  V.  Sc.  i 

[To  Viola.]  Your  master  quits  you;  and  for 

your  service  done  him, 
So  much  against  the  mettle  of  your  sex, 
SG  far  beneath  your  soft  and  tender  breeding, 
And  since  you  called  me  master  for  so  long, 
Here  is  my  hand.     You  shall  from  this  time  335 

be 

Your  master's  mistress. 
Oli.  A  sister !     You  are  she. 

Re-enter  Fabian,  witli  Malvolio. 

Duke.  Is  this  the  madman? 

Oli.  Ay,  my  lord,  this  same. 

How  now,  Malvolio ! 
Mai.  Madam,  you  have  done  me  wrong, 

Notorious  wrong. 

Oli.  Have  I,  Malvolio?     No. 

Mai.  Lady,  you   have.       Pray  you,  peruse  that34o 

letter. 

You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand. 
Write  from  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand  or  phrase; 
Or  say  'tis  not  your  seal,  not  your  invention. 
You  can  say  none  of  this.     Well,  grant  it 

then 

And  tell  me,  in  the  modesty  of  honour,  345 

Why  you  have  given  me  such  clear  lights  of 

favour, 
Bade  me  come  smiling  and  cross-gartered  to 

you, 
To  put  on  yellow  stockings  and  to  frow* 


ACT  V.  Sc.  i.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  153 

Upon  Sir  Toby  and  the  lighter  people; 

850         And,  acting  this  in  an  obedient  hope, 

Why  have  you  suffered  me  to  be  imprisonedf 
Kept  in  a  dark  house,  visited  by  the  priest^ 
And  made  the  most  notorious  geek  and  gull 
That  e'er  invention  played  on?  Tell  me  why. 

355  Oil.  Alas,  Malvolio,  this  is  not  my  writing, 

Though,  I  confess,  much  like  the  character; 
But  out  of  question  'tis  Maria's  hand. 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  it  was  she 
First  told  me  thou  wast  mad.     Thou  earnest 
in  smiling, 

360         And  in  such  forms  which   here   were   pre- 
supposed 

Upon  thee  in  the  letter.    Prithee,  be  content. 
This  practice  hath  most  shrewdly  passed  upon 

thee; 
But  when  we  know  the  grounds  and  authors 

of  it, 
Thoushaltbeboth  the  plaintiff  and  the  judge 

365         Of  thine  own  cause. 

Fab.  Good  madam,  hear  me  speak, 

And  let  no  quarrel  nor  no  brawl  to  come 
Taint  the  condition  of  this  present  hour, 
Which  I  have  wondered  at.  In  hope  it  shall 

not, 
Most  freely  I  confess,  myself  and  Toby 

370         Set  this  device  against  Malvolio  here, 

Upon  some  stubborn  and  uncourteous  parts 
We  had  conceived  against  him.  Maria  writ 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.        [ACT  V.  Sc.  i. 

The  letter  at  Sir  Toby's  great  importance, 
In  recompense  whereof  he  hath  married  her. 
How  with  a  sportful  malice  it  was  followed  375 
\f  ay  rather  pluck  on  laughter  than  revenge, 
If  that  the  injuries  be  justly  weighed 
That  have  on  both  sides  passed. 

Oli.  Alas,  poor  fool,  how  have  they  baffled  thee! 

Clo.  Why,  "some  are  born  great,  some  achieve 380 
greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrown 
upon  them."     I  was  one,  sir,  in  this  inter- 
lude; one  Sir  Topas,  sir;  but  that's  all  one. 
"By  the  Lord,  fool,  I  am  not  mad."    But  do 
you  remember?     "Madam,  why  laugh  you  at  385 
such  a  barren  rascal?    An  you  smile  not,  he's 
gagged."     And  thus  the  whirligig  of   time 
brings  in  his  revenges. 

Mai.  I'll  be  revenged  on  the  whole  pack  of  you. 

[Exit. 

Oli.  He  hath  been  most  notoriously  abused.  390 

Duke.  Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  a  peace. 
He  hath  not  told  us  of  the  captain  yet. 
When  that  is  known  and  golden  time  con- 
vents, 

A  solemn  combination  shall  be  made 
Of  our  dear  souls.     Meantime,  sweet  sister,  395 
We  will  not  part  from  hence.    Cesario,  come; 
For  so  you  shall  be,  while  you  are  a  man; 
But  when  in  other  habits  you  are  seen, 
Orsino's  mistress  and  his  fancy's  queen. 

[Exeunt  all,  except  Clown. 


ACT  V.  So.  i.]       TWELFTH  NIGHT.  155 

Clo.   [Sings.] 
400         When  that  I  was  and  a  little  tiny  boy, 

With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, 
A  foolish  thing  was  but  a  toy, 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came  to  man's  estate, 
405  With  hey,  ho,  &c. 

'Gainst  knaves  and  thieves  men  shut  their 

gate, 
For  the  rain,  &c. 

But  when  I  came,  alas !  to  wive, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 

no         By  swaggering  could  I  never  thrive. 
For  the  rain,  &c. 

But  when  I  came  unto  my  beds, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 

With  toss-pots  still  had  drunken  heads 
us  For  the  rain,  &c. 

A  great  while  ago  the  world  begun, 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
But  that's  all  one,  our  play  is  done, 

And  we'll  strive  to  please  you  every  day. 

[Exit. 


NOTES. 


ABBREVIATIONS. 

A.— The  Arden  Shakespeare.  Twelfth  Night,  ed.  by  A.  D. 
Innis. 

Abbott.— A  Shakespearian  Grammar,  by  E.  A.  Abbott, 
London,  1879. 

Clar. — Clarendon  Press  Series,  ed.  by  W.  Aldis  Wright. 

Var.— The  Variorum  Shakespeare,  ed.  by  H.  H.  Purness. 

N.  E.  D.  —A  New  English  Dictionary  on  Historical  Prin- 
ciples, ed.  by  J.  A.  H.  Murray,  Henry  Bradley,  and  W.  A. 
Craigie. 

TITLE.— Twelfth  Wight,  or  What  You  Will.  Twelfth  Night 
is  the  eve  of  the  festival  of  the  Epiphany,  the  celebration  of 
the  visit  of  the  Magi  to  the  infant  Christ,  occurring  on  the 
sixth  of  January,  or  twelve  days  after  Christmas.  It  marked 
the  close  of  the  Christmas  festivities,  and  was  often  cele- 
brated by  plays  and  similar  entertainments.  It  is  probable 
that  the  title,  which  bears  no  reference  to  the  contents  of  the 
drama,  was  given  because  of  the  date  of  its  first  perform- 
ance. The  sub-title  may  be  taken  as  indicating  Shakspere's 
indifference  as  to  what  it  might  be  called. 

ACT  I. 

I.  i.  The  first  scene  strikes  the  sentimental  note  which  is 
the  key  to  Orsino's  character,  and  indicates  his  relation 
to  Olivia,  which  is  the  basis  of  the  main  plot. 

I.  i.  3.     The  appetite.    I.e.,  for  music,  not  love. 

I.  i.  4.    Fall.    Cadence. 

I.  i.  5.  Sound.  This  word  has  been  much  questioned,  and 
many  editors  have  adopted  Pope's  substitution  of  "south." 
But  it  seems  necessary  merely  to  understand  it  as  a  poetic 
shortening  of  "sound  of  the  wind." 

I.  i.  9.     Quick.    Living. 

Li.  12.     Validity.    Value.    Pi1*h.    Height  of  worth. 
156 


NOTES.  157 

I.  i.  14.  Fancy.  Love.  This  use  is  frequent  in  Shakspere. 
Of.  Merchant  of  Venice,  III.  ii.  63-64, 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head? 

I.  i.  15.    That  it  is  the  one  most:  highly  imaginative  state. 
I.  i.  17.    Hart.    This  pun  occurs  elsewhere  in  Shakspere. 
Cf.  Julius  Caesar,  III.  i.  207-208, 

O  world,  thou  wast  the  forest  to  this  hart, 
And  this,  indeed,  O  world,  the  heart  of  thee; 

and  also  As  You  Like  It,  III.  ii.  260. 

I.  i.  18.     The  noblest.    I.e.,  Olivia's. 

I.  i.  21.  Turned  into  a  hart.  The  allusion,  a  common  one 
in  Elizabethan  literature,  is  to  the  story  of  Actaeon,  who, 
having  looked  on  Diana  bathing,  was  turned  into  a  stag, 
and  torn  by  his  own  hounds. 

I.  i.  24.     So  please.    May  it  so  please. 

I.  i.  26.  Element.  Air  or  sky.  Seven  years'  heat.  Seven 
summers. 

I.  i.  33-34.  That  fine  frame  to  pay.  So  finely  constituted  as 
to  pay. 

I.  i.  35.  Golden  shaft.  The  allusion  is  to  a  fancy,  frequent 
in  poetry  since  Ovid,  that  Cupid  had  arrows  tipped  with  dif 
ferent  metals,  those  with  gold  causing  love,  those  with  lead, 
hate,  etc. 

I.  i.  37.  Liver,  brain,  and  heart.  According  to  the  old  pop- 
ular belief,  these  organs  were  the  seats  of  the  passions,  th* 
reason,  and  the  sentiments,  respectively. 

I.  i.  39.  Self.  Single.  The  general  sense  of  the  passage 
is,  "When  all  her  powers  and  perfections  are  dominated  by 
one  person,  i.e.,  her  husband." 

I.  i.  40-41.  Note  that  the  scene  ends  as  it  began,  with  an 
utterance  expressive  of  the  Duke's  self-indulgent  nursing  oi 
his  emotions. 

I.  ii.  This  short  scene  carries  on  the  exposition  of  the 
initial  situation  by  introducing  the  heroine,  giving  further 
details  about  Orsino  and  Olivia  and  their  mutual  relations, 
and  providing  a  motive  for  Viola's  disguise.  The  later 
appearance  of  Sebastian  is  also  prepared  for. 


158  NOTES. 

I.  ii.  1,  2.    For  metre  cf.  Introduction,  p.  36,  3. 

I.  ii.  5.  Perchance.  Used  here  and  in  line  7  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  "perhaps,"  in  line  6,  punningly,  in  the  original 
sense  of  "by  chance." 

I.  ii.  10.  Those  poor  number.  Number  is  taken  as  a  col- 
lective, and  the  demonstrative  made  to  agree  with  the  plu- 
ral idea.  Cf.  I.  v.  100. 

I.  ii.  14.  Lived.  The  usual  sailors'  word  for  "remained 
afloat." 

I.  ii.  15.  Arion.  The  Greek  musician,  who,  according  to 
the  fable,  when  thrown  overboard  by  sailors  who  wished 
to  get  his  wealth,  was  borne  ashore  by  the  dolphins  which 
had  gathered  round  the  ship  to  listen  to  his  lyre. 

I.  ii.  17,  18.     For  metre  see  Introduction,  p.  36,  3 

I.  ii.  21.  The  like.  A  like  escape.  For  metre  see  Intro- 
duction, p.  38,  6. 

I.  ii.  42.    Delivered.     Declared,  made  manifest. 

I.  ii.  43-44.  The  Folios  have  no  comma  after  mellow,  which 
must  then  be  taken  as  a  verb,  giving  the  sense,  "Till  I  had 
made  my  opportunity  ripen  my  condition  (which  at  present 
is  not  ripe  for  exposure)."  With  the  punctuation  in  the 
text,  mellow  is  an  adjective,  and  the  sense  is,  "O  that  I  might 
not  be  exposed  as  to  my  condition,  till  I  had  made  a  ripe 
opportunity." 

I.  ii.  53.  Me.  For  this  redundant  object  cf.  I.  v.  281,  "I  see 
you  what  you  are." 

I.  ii.  59.    Allow.    Cause  to  be  acknowledged. 

I.  ii.  62.  Mute.  Mutes  are  frequently  associated  with 
eunuchs  in  accounts  of  Eastern  courts. 

I.  iii.  This  scene  introduces  the  characters  of  the  comic 
underplot.  Being  farcical,  it  is  written  in  prose. 

I.  iii.  1.  A  plague.  An  interjectional  phrase  like  "the  mis- 
chief." Its  full  form  was  probably,  "In  the  name  of  the 
plague." 

I.  iii.  5.  Cousin.  This  word  was  used  to  denote  a  much 
wider  range  of  relationship  than  at  present,  and  its  use  here 
does  not  contradict  the  implication  of  "niece"  in  line  1.  Cf. 
As  You  Like  It,  I.  iii.  44,  "Ros.  Me,  uncle?  Duke  F.  You, 
cousin." 

I.  iii.  7.     Except  before   excepted.     A  formal   law  phrase 


NOTES.  159 

which  the  sound  of  "exceptions"  called  to  Sir  Toby's  mind. 
Many  of  his  jokes  have  no  point  except  as  expressing  the 
muddled  workings  of  a  besotted  mind.  Cf .  his  next  speech. 

I.  iii.  9.    Modest.    Moderate. 

I.  iii.  21.    Tall.    Bold,  manly. 

I.  iii.  28.  Viol-de-gamboys.  The  bass-viol  or  violoncello; 
Italian,  viola  da  gamba,  so  called  because  held  between  the 
legs. 

I.  iii.  31.  Almost  natural.  Almost  like  a  "natural"  or 
idiot. 

I.  iii.  34.     Oust.    Relish.  . 

I.  iii.  38.    Substractors.   A  drunken  error  for  "detractors." 

I.  iii.  45.    Coystrill.    A  base  fellow. 

I.  iii.  47.  Parish  top.  "A  large  top  was  formerly  kept  in 
every  village,  to  be  whipped  in  frosty  weather,  that  the 
peasants  may  be  kept  warm  by  exercise,  and  out  of  mischief, 
while  they  could  not  work."  Steevens,  in  Var.  Castiliano 
vulgo.  If  this  phrase  had  any  meaning  for  Sir  Toby,  it  is 
now  lost. 

I.  iii.  56.  Chambermaid.  Not  in  the  modern  sense,  for 
Maria  is  called  by  Olivia  "my  gentlewoman"  (I.  v.  182-83)  and 
seems  to  act  as  lady's  maid  and  companion  to  her  mistress. 

I.  iii.  62.  Board.  The  naval  term,  used  often  by  Shak- 
spere  in  the  sense  of  "address,"  "woo." 

I.  iii.  75.  Thought  is  free.  Maria  quotes  the  proverb  in 
answer  to  Sir  Andrew's  question  in  line  71,  meaning  to  say 
that  she  can  think  if  she  likes  that  she  has  to  do  with  a  fool. 

I.  iii.  76.  Buttery-bar.  The  ledge  along  the  top  of  the 
half -door,  over  which  liquor  was  served  from  the  butts  in 
the  cellar. 

I.  iii.  80-84.  Dry.  The  play  here  is  on  the  different  senses 
of  "dry"— (1)  opposed  to  moist  figuratively,  a  moist  hand 
being  taken  as  a  sign  of  amorousness ;  (2)  opposed  to  moist 
literally;  (3)  stupid. 

I.  iii.  87.    Barren.    I.e.,  of  jests. 

I.  iii.  88.    Canary.   A  sweet  wine  from  the  Canary  Islands. 

I.  iii.  89.    Put  down.    Got  the  better  of. 

I.  iii.  106.  Sir  Andrew  misses  Sir  Toby's  pun  on 
"tongues"  and  "tongs,"  which  were  once  pronounced  alike. 

I.  iii.  108.    Curl  by  nature.    This  is  Theobald's  emendation 

6 


166  NOTES. 

for  the  Folio  reading  "coole  my  nature,"  which  obscureu 
both  the  play  on  "tongues"  and  that  on  art  and  nature. 

I.  iii.  115.  Count.  In  I.  ii.  25  and  in  the  prefixes  to  his 
speeches,  Or  si  no  is  called  Duke;  elsewhere,  as  here,  Count. 
The  inconsistency  seems  to  be  a  mere  oversight. 

I.  iii.  124.  Kickshawses.  Trifles.  The  singular  "kick- 
shaw" is  a  corruption  of  the  French  quelque  chose,  something, 
anything. 

I.  iii.  129.     Galliard.    A  lively  dance. 

I.  iii.  133.  Bach-trick.  Exactly  what  feat  in  dancing  is 
here  re/erred  to  has  not  been  certainly  made  out. 

I.  iii.  137-38.  Mistress  MalVs  picture.  It  is  probable  that  the 
name  here  is  merely  typical.  No  plausible  identification 
has  been  made. 

I.  iii.  140.  Coranto.  A  dance  with  a  running  or  gliding 
step.  Fr.,  courante. 

L  iii.  147.  Darned  coloured  stock.  The  color  of  Sir  An- 
drew's stocking  has  caused  much  controversy.  The  Folio 
reading,  preserved  here,  suggests  merely  "damned,"  which 
is  not  impossible.  The  favorite  emendations  have  been 
"flame,"  "damask,"  "dove,"  "damson,"  etc.,  none  of  which 
is  convincing. 

I.  iii.  149.  Taurus.  The  reference  is  to  the  astrological 
belief  that  each  of  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  affected  a  part  of 
the  human  body.  Taurus  governed  the  neck  and  throat,  so 
that  both  knights  are  in  error. 

I.  iv.  This  scene  presents  the  beginning  of  the  main  com- 
plication— Viola's  love  for  Orsino,  and  her  office  as  proxy- 
wooer  of  Olivia. 

I.  iv.  5.  Humour.  Caprice,  or  disposition.  Both  senses 
are  common  in  Shakspere. 

I.  iv.  14.  But.  Used  by  Shakspere  for  "than"  after 
negatives. 

.  iv.  21.    Spoke.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (c) , 
.  iv.  22.    Civil  bounds.    See  Introduction,  p.  39, 1. 
.  iv.  29.    Nuncio.    Messenger. 
,  iv.  33.    Rubious.    Ruby-colored. 
,  iv,  34.    Sound.    Not  broken  or  cracked. 
.  w»  35.    Semblative.  Resembling.   This  word  is  not  found 
elsewhere. 


NOTES.  161 

I.  iv.  36.  Thy  constellation.  The  constellation  under  which 
fou  were  born  and  which  determined  your  temperament; 
60,  here,  your  qualities  in  general. 

I  iv.  42.    Barful.     Full  of  hindrances.    Strife.    Attempt. 

I.  v.  The  pause  between  this  scene  and  the  previous  one 
is  longer  than  that  between  I.  v.  and  II.  i.,  a  fact  which  has 
led  Spedding  and  others  to  begin  the  second  act  here. 

I.  v.  6.  Fear  no  colours.  Fear  nothing,  the  flag  of  no  foe. 
The  phrase  was  common  and  is  introduced  here  to  permit 
a  pun  on  "collars"  with  reference  to  hanging. 

I.  v.  9.    Lenten.    Lean,  spare,  like  meals  in  Lent. 

I.  v.  22-23.  For  turning  away  .  .  .  out.  As  for  being  dis- 
missed, let  summer  (when  food  and  lodging  are  easily  had) 
make  it  supportable.  Others  suggest  puns  on  "turning 
away"  and  "turning  of  whey,"  or  "turning  o>  hay."  Clar 
suggests,  "Wait  till  summer  comes,  and  see  if  it  is  true" — 
implying  that  such  threats  had  been  frequent. 

I.  v.  26.  Points.  Maria  goes  on  to  pun  on  "points"  in  the 
sense  of  the  laces  with  metal  points  that  were  used  on  the 
clothing  instead  of  buttons— in  the  present  instance,  to 
fasten  the  hose  to  the  doublet. 

I.  v.  28.    Gaskins.    Breeches  or  hose. 

I.  v.  35.  You  were  best.  Originally  "you"  in  this  phrase 
was  a  dative,  the  full  phrase  being  "it  were  best  for  you." 
Cf .  II.  ii.  28,  III.  iv.  12,  and  Abbott .  §230. 

I.  v.  40.  Quinapalus.  An  imaginary  authority,  quoted  in 
ridicule  of  the  pedantic  fashion  of  the  time.  Witty.  Wise. 

I.  v.  46.    Dry.    Stupid.     Cf.  I.  iii.  80-84,  note. 

I.  v.  47.    Dishonest.    Badly  behaved. 

I.  v.  48.    Madonna.    My  lady. 

I.  v.  53.    Botcher.    Patcher. 

I.  v.  58-59.  As  there  is  .  .  .  flower.  In  this  nonsensical 
parody  of  a  proverb,  the  clown  is  merely  talking  to  postpone 
the  scolding  he  expects. 

I.  v.  63.  Misprision.  Mistake,  or,  in  law,  criminal 
neglect  in  regard  to  the  crime  of  another.  It  is  not  likeiy 
that  Shakspere  meant  the  clown  to  use  it  accurately. 

I.  v.  64.    Cucullus,  etc.    The  cowl  does  not  make  the  monk. 

I.  v.  69.  Dexteriously.  This  may  not  be  intended  for  a 
wrong  form,  as  both  "dexterious"  and  "dexteriousiy" 


162  NOTES. 

are  found  several  times  in  17th  century  works.  See 
N.  E.  D. 

I.  v.  71-72.  Good  my.  My  good ;  formed  on  the  analogy  of 
phrases  like  "good  my  lord,"  in  which  the  possessive  lias 
become  attached  to  the  noun,  as  in  Pr.  monsieur,  or  ItaL 
madonna.  Cf.  II.  v.  195-96,  "Dear  my  sweet. " 

I.  v.  72.  Mouse  of  virtue.  Virtuous  mouse.  "Mouse"  was 
an  affectionate  term,  and  its  use  here  indicates  the  extent  of 
the  license  permitted  to  professional  fools.  For  the  form  of 
the  phrase,  see  Introduction,  p.  39,  1. 

I.  v.  95.  With.  For  this  use  of  with  for  "by,"  of.  Julius 
Caesar,  III.  ii.  201,  "Marr'd,  as  you  see,  with  traitors." 

I.  v.  100.  These  set  kind  of  fools.  The  plural  demonstrative 
here  may  be  explained  like  "those"  in  I.  ii.  10,  "those  poor 
number,"  or  as  due  to  the  attraction  of  the  plural  "fools." 
It  is  a  common  colloquial  mistake  in  modern  speech. 

I.  v.  101.  Fools'  zanies.  "A  fool's  zany  is  a  buffoon  who 
imitates  the  real  fool  in  a  grotesque  manner."  [Clar.] 

I.  v.  103.    Distempered.    Disordered,  unhealthy. 

I.  v.  105.    Bird-bolts.    Blunt  arrows  shot  from  a  cross-bow 

I.  v.  107.    Allowed.    Licensed,  professional. 

I.  v.  108.    Nor  no.    See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (a) 

I.  v.  110.  Leasing.  Lying.  Mercury  was  the  god  of 
liars. 

I.  v.  112-13.  Gentleman  much  desires.  For  omission  of  the 
relative  cf .  Abbott,  §244,  and  line  206,  below. 

I.  v.  119-120.  Speaks  nothing  but  madman.  Speaks  only 
madman's  nonsense. 

I.  v.  126.    SpoHe.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (c). 

L  v.  128.    Here  he  comes.    I.e.,  Sir  Toby. 

I.  v.  129.  Pia  mater.  The  inner  membrane  of  the  brain ; 
used  here  for  the  brain  itself. 

I.  v.  146.    Heat.    The  point  where  wine  makes  him  warm. 

I.  v.  149.    Crowner.    Coroner. 

I.  v.  164.  Sheriff's  post.  Carved  and  painted  posts  were 
.set  up  before  the  houses  of  mayors  and  sheriffs. 

I.  v.  165.    But.    Unless.    Cf .  line  307,  below. 

I.  v.  174.    Squash.    An  unripe  {Jeascod. 

I.  v.  175.  Codling.  Usually,  a  hard  kind  of  apnle ;  here, 
an  unripe  one. 


NOTE&.  1 63 

I.  v.  176.  In  standing  water.  "In  the  condition  of  standing 
water"  [Clar.],  i.e.,  between  ebb  and  flow. 

I.  v.  178.     Shrewishly.    Sharply. 

I.  v.  195.    Con.    Learn  by  heart. 

I.  v.  197.  Comptible  .  .  .  usage.  Sensitive  to  the  least  ill 
treatment.  (Or  comptible  may  mean  "likely  to  call  people  to 
account.") 

I.  v.  201.    Modest.    Cf.  I.  iii.  9,  note. 

I.  v.  205.  My  profound  heart.  Used  with  playful  reference 
to  Olivia's  cleverness  in  detecting  the  theatrical  allusions 
in  Viola's  use  of  "speech,"  "con,"  "part,"  "studied," 
etc. 

I.  v.  205-206.  By  the  very  fangs,  etc.  The  most  malicious 
inquiry  could  find  out  nothing  worse  about  me  than  that  I 
am  not,  etc. 

I.  v.  211.     From.    Out  of. 

I.  v.  212.     Will  on.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (d). 

I.  v.  215.     Forgive.    Excuse  you  from  uttering. 

I.  v.  224.  That  time  of  moon.  The  reference  is  to  the  sup- 
posed effect  of  the  moon  in  causing  or  increasing  lunacy. 

I.  v.  228.  Swabber.  From  swab,  to  clean  the  decks,  etc.,  of 
a  ship.  Hull.  Float  without  hoisting  sail. 

I.  v.  229.  Giant.  From  II.  iii.  202,  II.  v.  15,  and  III.  ii.  72, 
it  appears  that  Maria  was  small. 

I.  v.  230.  Tell  me  your  mind.  If  these  words  belong  to 
Viola,  the  meaning  seems  to  be,  "Do  you  assent  to  your 
attendant's  attempt  to  put  me  out?"  Many  editors  give  the 
words  to  Olivia. 

I.  v.  236.    Overture.    Declaration.     Taxation.    Demand. 

I.  v.  237.    Olive.    The  symbol  of  peace. 

I.  v.  242.    Entertainment.    Reception. 

I.  v.  244.    Maidenhead.    Maidenhood. 

I.  v.  250.  Comfortable.  Comforting — a  Scriptural  usage, 
in  keeping  with  the  figure  introduced  by  Viola's  use  of 
"divinity." 

I.  v.  263-64.  Such  a  one  I  was— this  present.  With  this 
punctuation  (the  dash  is  not  in  the  Folios),  the  sense  is  as 
follows :  Olivia  is  using  the  conventional  language  of  show- 
ing a  portrait.  "Such  a  one  I  was"  would  be  the  common 
phrase,  followed  by  "at  such  and  such  a  date."  But  the 


164  NOTES. 

date  of  portraiture  is  this  present,  even  now.    There  have 
been  many  conjectural  emendations. 

I.  v.  264.  Well  done.  Here  she  still  keeps  up  the  language 
of  portraiture.  The  idea  of  an  artificial  complexion  is  not 
introduced  before  Viola's  next  speech. 

I.  y.  266.  'Tis  in  grain.  I.e.,  it  will  not  wash  out.  The 
phrase  originally  had  reference  to  a  seed-like  insect  from 
which  a  fast  dye  was  made. 

I.  v.  270.  She.  For  "she"  used  for  "woman,"  cf.  As  You 
Like  It,  III.  ii.  10,  "The  fair,  the  chaste,  and  unexpressive 
she." 

I.  v.  276.  Labelled.  "Label"  had  a  special  sense  of  a  paper 
appended  to  a  will,  a  codicil.  Item.  Likewise,  used  to  intro- 
duce each  new  article  in  an  enumeration. 

I.  v.  280.  Praise.  Appraise,  value.  The  preceding  enu- 
meration suggests  the  valuator's  term. 

I.  v.  281.     You.    Cf.  I.  ii.  53. 

I.  v.  286.    For  metre,  see  Introduction,  p.  36,  3. 

I.  v.  291.  Voices.  Public  opinion.  Divulged.  Reputed. 
Free.  Generous. 

I.  v.  292.    Dimension.    Bodily  shape.     Cf .  v.  i.  244. 

I.  v.  293.     Gracious.    Physically  attractive. 

I.  v.  294.     Took.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (c). 

I.  v.  295.  In  my  master's  flame.  With  as  fierce  a  passion  as 
my  master. 

I.  v.  299.     Willow.    The  symbol  of  rejected  love. 

I.  v.  301.    Cantons.    Cantos. 

I.  v.  303.  Reverberate.  Usually  and  properly  in  a  passive 
sense,  but  here  =  "reverberant,"  "echoing." 

I.  v.  307.    But.    Cf.  I.  v.  165. 

I.  v.  309.    State.    Estate,  condition. 

I.  v.  324.  Blazon.  Description  of  armorial  bearings.  Her 
gentility  is  proclaimed  by  her  whole  manner  and  appearance 
as  clearly  as  it  would  be  by  the  coat  of  arms  of  her  family. 
For  metre,  see  Introduction,  p.  37,  4. 

I.  v.  331.  Peevish.  Foolish.  The  word  is  here  merely  a 
vague  term  of  disapproval,  used  by  Olivia  to  disguise  he/ 
feelings. 

I.  v.  333.     County.     Count. 

I.  v.  335.    Flatter  with.    See  Introduction,  p.  41,  5,  (b) 


NOTES.  165 

I.  v.  840-41.  I  fear  that  my  mind  (i.e.,  my  heart)  will  not 
be  able  to  resist  the  too  favorable  impression  conveyed 
through  my  eyes. 

I.  v.  342.     Owe,    Own. 

ACT  II. 

II.  i.    This  scene,  which  introduces  the  remaining-  impor- 
tant character,  appears  to  be  out  of  place.    II.  ii.  follows 
immediately  on  I.  v.,  and  Innis  shows  "that  a  night  inter- 
venes between  II.  ii.  and  the  concluding  scenes  of  the  play : 
whereas  a  night  does  not  intervene  between  Sebastian's 
parting  from  Antonio  and  the  final  scene."    Var.  notes  that 
in  Irving' s  acting  version  II.  i.  becomes  III.  ii. 

The  scene  is  entirely  Shakspere's  invention,  as  no  charac- 
ter corresponding  to  Antonio  occurs  in  any  other  known  ver- 
sion of  the  story. 

II.  i.  1.    Nor  .  .  .  not.    See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (a). 

II.  i.  5.     Distemper.     Influence  harmfully. 

II.  ic  12.  Extravagancy.  Aimless  wandering.  "My  jour- 
ney to  a  fixed  destination  is  not  such  at  all." 

II.  i.  15.    It  charges  me  in  manners.    Courtesy  compels  me. 

II.  i.  16.    Express.    Reveal. 

II.  i.  25.     Breach  of  the  sea.    Breakers. 

II.  i.  31.  Such  estimable  wonder.  Wonder  that  estimates 
her  so  highly. 

II.  i.  39.  Murder  me — by  breaking  my  heart  over  losing  you. 

II.  i.  49.     Gentleness.    Favor. 

II.  ii.  8.    Desperate.     Hopeless. 

II.  ii.  10-11.     So  hardy  to  come.    So  bold  as  to  come. 

II.  ii.  13.    So.     On  those  terms. 

II.  iic  15.  Peevishly.  A  reminiscence  of  Olivia's  adjective 
in  I.  v.  331. 

II.  ii.  20.  Forbid  .  .  .  not.  This  is  a  sort  of  double  nega- 
tive,, See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (a). 

II.  ii.  22.  Sure.  This  word  is  not  found  in  the  first  Folio, 
but  is  adopted  from  the  later  Folios  to  complete  the  metre. 
Lost.  Caused  her  to  lose. 

II.  ii.  28.     She  were  better.     Cf.  I.  v.  35,  and  III.  iv.  12. 

n.  ii.  30.  Pregnant.  Ready,  clever.  Cf .  III.  i.  97.  Enemy, 
Devil. 


166  NOTES. 

II.  ii.  81.    Proper-false.    Handsome  but  faise. 

II.  ii.  35.     Fadge.    Suit  the  situation. 

II.  ii.  36.    Fond.    Dote. 

II.  ii.  41.     Thriftless.     Profitless. 

II.  iii.  3.  Deluculo  surgere  saluberrimum  est.  To  rise  early  is 
most  healthful.  This  is  a  quotation  from  Lilly's  Latin  Gram- 
mar, the  usual  Latin  text-book  in  Shakspere's  school- 
days. 

II.  iii.  10-11.  The  four  elements.  Earth,  air,  fire,  and  water, 
of  which  all  bodies  were  supposed  to  be  constituted. 

II.  iii.  15.    Stoup.    Drinking  cup. 

II.  iii.  18.  The  picture  of  "we  three."  The  reference  is  to  a 
common  picture  of  two  fools  or  asses,  with  an  inscription, 
"We  three  are  fools"  (or  asses,  or  loggerheads),  the  specta- 
tor being  the  third. 

II.  iii.  19.    Catch.    Part-song. 

II.  iii.  21.    Breast.    Voice. 

II.  iii.  25-26.  Pigrogromitus  .  .  .  Queubus.  This  is,  of  course, 
merely  Sir  Andrew's  unintelligible  version  of  the  fool's 
Intentional  nonsense. 

II.  iii.  28.    Leman.    Sweetheart. 

II.  iii.  29.  I  did  impeticos,  etc.  The  only  comment  neces- 
sary is  the  next  speech. 

II.  iii.  37.     TestrU..  Sixpence. 

II.  iii.  43  ff.  O  mistress  mine,  etc.  This  song  appears  in 
print  as  early  as  1599,  and  is  quite  possibly  not  Shakspere's. 
Cf.  Introduction,  p.  30. 

II.  iii.  55.  Sweet  and  twenty.  This  has  been  variously 
interpreted:  (1)  as  referring  to  the  kisses;  (2)  sweet  as  a 
vocative,  and  twenty,  referring  to  the  kisses.  This  requires 
a  comma  after  sweet.  (3)  The  whole  phrase  as  a  vocative. 

II.  iii.  59.  Contagious  breath.  Sir  Toby  seems  to  use  the 
word  contagious  on  the  chance  that  Sir  Andrew  will  take  it 
up  without  understanding  it,  as  he  immediately  does.  Breath 
is  ambiguous,  meaning:  (1)  voice,  as  in  line  22,  above; 
(2)  breath,  in  the  modern  sense,  as  is  implied  in.  the  use  of 
nose  in  line  61. 

II.  iii.  62.     Welkin.    Sky. 

II.  iii.  64.  Three  souls,  etc.  Simply  a  humorous  exaggera- 
tion of  the  power  of  music.  It  is  highly  improbable  that  any 


NOTES.  16? 

reference  to  the  peripatetic  philosophy,  such  as  some  have 
found  here,  was  intended. 

II.  iii.  66-67.    Dog  at.    Good  at ;  a  slang  phrase. 
II.  iii.  84.    Catalan.    Properly  a  native  of  Cataia  or  Cathay, 
i.e.,  China.    The  word  seems  to  have  been  used  vaguely  for 
"rogue." 

II.  iii.  85.  Peg-a-Ramsey.  A  name  caught  at  random  froir 
an  old  song. 

II.  iii.  85-86.  "Three  merry  men  be  we."  A  fragment  of  an 
old  song. 

II.  iii.  87-88.  Tillyvally.  A  common  expression  of  con- 
tempt. 

II.  iii.  88-89.  "There  dwelt,"  etc.  Another  fragment  of  an 
old  song,  suggested  apparently  by  his  contemptuous  repe- 
tition of  Maria's  "Lady." 

n.  iii.  95.  "0,  the  twelfth,'"  etc.  This  song  has  not  been 
identified. 

II.  iii.  102.    Coziers*.    Cobblers'.    Men  of  sedentary  occupa- 
tions,  such   as  weavers,    tailors,   and  cobblers,  are  often 
referred  to  as  given  to  singing. 
II.  iii.  107.    Snech  up!    Shut  up! 
II.  iii.  108.    Round.    Direct,  outspoken. 
II.  iii.  116  ff.     "Farewell,"  etc.    This  and  the  six  following 
fragments  are  from  Cory  don's  Farewell  to  Phyllis,  which 
appeared  in  Eobert  Jones's  Booke  of  Ayres,  1601.    See  In- 
troduction, p.  30. 

II.  iii.  132.  Cakes  and  ale.  The  reference  is  to  the  riotous 
eating  and  drinking  at  church  festivals,  of  which  the  Puri- 
tans strongly  disapproved.  See  line  160,  below. 

II.  iii.  135-36.    Rub  your  chain.    Mind  your  own  business. 
The  chain  was  the  badge  of  office  of  a  steward. 
II.  iii.  139-40.     Uncivil  rule.    Disorderly  behavior. 
II.  iii.  153.  A  nayword.  The  Folios  read  "an  ay  word,"  which 
is  not  found  elsewhere.   It  seems  to  be  used  as  =  "bye  word. " 
II.  iii.  157.    Possess  us.    Put  us  into  possession,  tell  us. 
II.  iii.  168.    Affectioned.    Affected. 

II.  iii.  169.  Cons  state.  Learns  dignity  by  heart.  Utters. 
Gives  out,  not  necessarily  in  words. 

II.  iii.  170.  Swarths.  Corrupt  form  of  "swaths."  A  swath 
is  what  falls  within  a  single  sweep  of  a  scythe.  ' 


168  NOTES. 

II.  iii.  170-71.   Best  persuaded  of  himself.    Most  convinced  of 
his  own  merits,  most  conceited. 
II.  iii.  180.    Expressure.    Expression.     So  "impressure"  in 

II.  v.  101. 

II.  iii.  181-82.     Feelingly  personated.    Exactly  described. 

II.  iii.  183.  On  a  forgotten  matter.  In  the  case  of  a  piece 
of  writing-  which  neither  of  us  can  remember  having 
done. 

II.  iii.  190-91.    A  horse  of  that  colour.    Cf.  As  You  Like  It, 

III.  ii.  434-35,  "Boys  and  women  are  for  the  most  part  cattle 
of  this  colour." 

II.  iii.  194.  Ass.  Shakspere  again  puns  on  "as"  and  "253" 
in  Hamlet,  V.  ii.  43,  "Many  such-like  ^ises  of  great  charge.5 

II.  iii.  202.  Penthesilea.  Queen  of  the  Amazons.  Another 
reference  to  Maria's  small  size.  Cf.  I.  v.  229,  note. 

II.  iii.  209.     Recover.     Win. 

II.  iii.  210.     Out.    Out  of  pocket. 

II.  iii.  212.  Cut.  A  term  of  contempt;  probably  from  cut, 
a  horse. 

II.  iii.  215.  Burn  some  sack.  Sack  was  a  Spanish  wine. 
"The  derivation  of  the  word  is  no  doubt  from  sec,  dry ;  not 
because  sack  was  a  dry  wine  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word, 
but  because  it  was  made  of  grapes  which  in  a  very  hot 
summer  were  dried  almost  to  raisins  by  the  sun,  and  so 
contained  a  large  quantity  of  sugar."  [Clar.]  To  burn  or 
mull  sack  was  to  warm  and  spice  it. 

II.  iv.  3.  Antique.  Quaint.  "Antic"  and  "antique"  were 
not  as  clearly  differentiated  as  now.  The  Folio  spelling  is 
"anticke."  For  accent  see  Introduction,  p.  37,  6. 

II.  iv.  5.  Recollected  terms.  Carefully  elaborated,  or,  per- 
haps, conventional  phrases,  as  opposed  to  the  "old  and  plain" 
(1.  43)  language  of  the  antique  song. 

II.  iv.  18.    Motions.    Mental  and  emotional  activities. 

II.  iv.  24.    Favour.    Countenance. 

II.  iv.  25.  By  your  favour.  Viola  is  secretly  punning  upon 
the  two  senses:  (1)  By  your  grace  or  leave;  (2)  Upon  your 
countenance. 

II.  iv.  30.     Wears  she  to.    Comes  to  fit. 

II.  iv.  31.    Sways  she  level.    Rules  steadily. 

II.  iv.  37.    Bent.     The  figure  is  from  a  strung  bow,  and 


NOTES.  169 

may  mean  either  "curve,"  and  so  "inclination,"  or  "degree 
of  tension,"  and  so  "force,"  "capacity." 

II.  iv.  44.  Spinster.  In  the  original  sense  of  "a  woman 
who  spins." 

II.  iv.  45.  Free.  Care-free.  Bones.  Usually  explained  as 
the  bobbins  made  of  bone  used  in  lace-making. 

II.  iv.  46.    Silly  sooth.    Simple  truth. 

II.  iv.  48.     The  old  age.    The  good  old  times. 

II.  iv.  51  ff.  Song.  Some  have  doubted  whether  this  be 
the  original  song,  as  it  has  seemed  to  them  not  to  fit  the 
Duke's  description.  The  songs  in  plays  were  often  left  to 
^^  choice  of  the  actor. 

I.  iv.  52.    Cypress.     It  Is  disputed  whether   this   means, 
a  shroud  of  cypress,  i.e.,  crape;  (2)  a  coffin  of  cypress 

wood;  or  (3)  a  bier  strewn  with  sprigs  of  cypress.  The 
fifth  line  of  the  song  seems  to  favor  (2) . 

II.  iv.  75.     Taffeta.    Silk. 

II.  iv.  89.    For  metre,  see  Introduction,  pp.  35-36,  1. 

II.  iv.  94.  There  is  ...  sides.  See  Introduction,  p.  39,  3r 
(a).  Note  the  Duke's  characteristic  inconsistency  in  his 
statements  about  women  and  love. 

II.  iv.  97.    Retention.    Power  of  retaining. 

II.  iv.  99.  Motion.  Emotion.  The  liver  was  supposed  to 
be  the  seat  of  the  passions. 

II.  iv.  100.  The  antecedent  of  that  is  contained  in  "their." 
Cloyment.  Cloying. 

II.  iv.  110.     For  metre,  see  Introduction,  pp.  35-36,  1. 

II.  iv.  113.    Thought.    Sorrow,  melancholy,  brooding. 

II.  iv.  116.  Smiling,  of  course,  goes  with  "she,"  not  with 
"patience." 

II.  iv.  123.     Shall  I  to.     See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (d). 

II.  iv.  125.    Denay.    Denial. 

II.  v.  1.     Ways.    Originally  an  adverbial  genitive. 

II.  v.  6.  Sheep-biter.  A  dog  that  has  acquired  the  habit 
of  biting  sheep  becomes  worthless.  So  the  phrase  is  used 
as  a  general  term  of  reproach,  like  "cur." 

II.  v.  9-10.  Bear-baiting  was  one  of  the  sports  most  rep- 
robated by  the  Puritans. 

II.  v.  16.     Metal  of  India.    Gold. 

II.  v.  19.    Behaviour.    Deportment. 


170  NOTES. 

II.  v.  23.     Close.    Hide  yourselves. 

II.  v.  27.    Affect.    Love. 

II.  v.  29.     Fancy.    Love. 

II.  v.  31.     Follows.     I.e.,  as  a  servant. 

II.  v.  35.    Jets.    Struts. 

II.  v.  36.    Advanced.    Up-reared. 

II.  v.  37.     'Slight.    God's  light. 

II.  v.  43-44.  Tlie  Lady  of  the  Strachy.  Evidently  an  allusion 
to  a  lost  story  of  the  marriage  of  a  lady  of  rank  to  a  servant. 

II.  v.  45.  Jezebel.  That  Sir  Andrew  should  be  ignorant 
enough  to  call  Malvolio  by  a  woman's  name  is  quite  in 
character,  so  that  no  emendation  is  necessary. 

II.  v.  47.    Blows.     Puffs  up. 

II.  v.  49.    State.    Chair  of  state. 

II.  v.  50.     Stone-bow.     A  cross-bow  which  shoots  stones. 

II.  v.  52.  Branched.  With  a  pattern  of  flowers  and 
leaves. 

II.  v.  53.    Day-bed.    Couch. 

II.  v.  56.  Humour  of  state.  The  caprices  allowed  to  a  man 
of  rank. 

II.  v.  57.  A  demure  travel  of  regard.  A  grave  glance  round. 
Cf .  line  71,  below. 

II.  v.  65.  My—.  This  dash  was  suggested  by  Dr.  Brins- 
ley  Nicholson,  who  thus  interprets:  "While  Sir  Toby  is 
being  fetched  to  the  presence,  the  Lord  Malvolio  would 
frowningly  wind  up  his  watch  or  play  with — and  here 
from  force  of  habit  he  fingers  [his  badge  of  office] ,  and  is 
about  to  add  'play  with  my  chain,'  but  suddenly  remem- 
bering that  he  would  be  no  longer  a  steward,  or  other  gold- 
chained  attendant,  he  stops  short,  and  then  confusedly 
alters  his  phrase  to — 'some  rich  jewel.'  "  [Quoted  in  Var.J 

II.  v.  71.    Regard.    Look.    Cf.  line  57,  above. 

II.  v.  89.  What  employment,  etc.  Merely  a  grandiloquent 
phrase  for  "What's  this?"  (Some  editors  read  "imple- 
ment.") 

II.  v.  90.  Woodcock.  Proverbial  for  its  stupidity.  Cf. 
Hamlet,  I.  iii.  115,  "Springes  to  catch  woodcocks."  Gin. 
Snare. 

II.  v.  91-92.     Intimate.     Suggest. 

II.  v  94-95.     Many  critics  have  been  disturbed  because 


NOTES.  171 

neither  C  nor  P  occurs  in  the  address  of  the  letter.  But  the 
objection  is  that  of  a  reader,  and  Shakspere  wrote  for  an 
audience. 

II.  v.  95-96.  In  contempt  of  question.  "So  obvious  that  to 
question  it  is  absurd."  [Clar.j 

II.  v.  101.     Impressure.    Cf.  II.  iii.  180,  note. 

II.  v.  102.    Lucrece.    The  type  of  the  chaste  woman. 

II.  v.  110.  Numbers  altered.  I.e.,  the  metre  of  the  next 
stanza  is  different. 

II.  v.  112.    Brock.     Badger,  used  as  a  term  of  contempt. 

II.  v.  116.  M,  0,  A,  I.  The  letters  are  probably  chosen 
merely  to  mystify  Malvolio — as  they  do. 

II.  v.  117.     Fustian.     Pretentious  and  worthless. 

II.  v.  122.  Staniel.  A  kind  of  hawk.  Checks.  Turns 
aside  from  its  proper  prey. 

II.  v.  126-27.  Any  formal  capacity.  Any  mind  in  good  form 
or  order. 

II.  v.  134.  Sowter.  Apparently  the  name  of  a  hound.  Cry 
upon't,  as  a  dog  does  when  he  gets  the  scent.  The  passage 
is  puzzling,  and  would  certainly  be  simpler  if  we  read 
a  negative  after  "be,"  as  Hanmer  suggested.  For,  if  the 
scent  is  as  rank  as  a  fox,  it  is  inconsistent  to  refer  to  it  as 
cold  (1.  133)  or  as  at  fault  (1.  139) . 

II.  v.  139.     Faults.     Breaks  in  the  line  of  scent.    [N.E.D.] 

II.  v.  140-41.  I.e.,  "What  follows  does  not  work  out  con- 
sistently. It  breaks  down  when  examined." 

II.  v.  150.  This  simulation,  etc.  This  concealed  meaning 
is  not  so  intelligible  as  "I  may  command,"  etc. 

II.  v.  151.     Crash.     Force. 

II.  v.  153.    Are.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (b). 

II.  v.  159.    Blood.    Courage. 

II.  v.  161.     Slough.    The  cast  skin  of  a  snake. 

II.  v.  162.     Opposite.    Contradictory. 

II.  v.  163-64.  Tang  arguments  of  state.  Pronounce  emphatic- 
ally on  state  affairs. 

II.  v.  165.  Trick  of  singularity.  Individual  eccentricities 
of  manner. 

II.  v.  173.    Alter  services.     Exchange  places. 

II.  v.  175.  Champaign.  Open  country.  Discovers.  Reveals. 
See  Introduction,  p.  39,  3,  (a). 


172  NOTES. 

II.  v.  177.  Politic.  Dealing-  with  state  affairs.  Baffle. 
Treat  contemptuously. 

II.  v.  178.     Gross.    Vulgar. 

II.  v.  179.  Point-devise.  Precisely.  If  followed  by  a 
comma,  it  would  mean  "superfine." 

II.  v.  180.    Jade.     Befool,  trick. 

II.  v.  184.    Manifests.    Offers. 

II.  v.  188.  Strange.  Odd,  or  distant  (referring-  to  line  162, 
above).  Stout.  Surly  (referring  to  line  163,  above). 

II.  v.  195-96.    Dear  my  sweet.    Cf .  I.  v.  71-72,  note. 

II.  v.  201.  Sophy.  The  Shah  of  Persia.  An  Englishman, 
Sir  Thomas  Shirley,  had  printed  in  1600  an  account  of  his 
adventures  at  the  Persian  court. 

II.  v.  211.     Tray-trip.     A  game  played  with  dice. 

II.  v.  219.     Aqua-vitae.     Strong  liquor. 

II.  v.  223-24.  Abhors  .  .  .  detests.  Cf.  lines  182-83,  above. 
Malvolio  is  so  intoxicated  with  his  prospects  that  he  can 
make  himself  believe  anything. 

II.  v.  230.     Tartar.    Tartarus,  hell. 

ACT  III. 

This  act  brings  to  a  climax  the  main  plot  and  also  the  two 
entanglements  of  the  underplot,  viz.,  the  trick  played  on 
Malvolio,  and  that  on  Sir  Andrew  and  Viola. 

III.  i.    The  love  of  Olivia  for  Viola,  which  is  hinted  at  in 
I.  v.  and  II.  ii.,  is  here  fully  declared,  and  its  rejection 
brings  about  a  dead-lock. 

III.  i.  2.     Tabor.     A  sort  of  small  drum. 

III.  i.  4.     Churchman.    Clergyman. 

III.  i.  13.     Cheveril.     Kid. 

III.  i.  23-24.  /Since  bonds,  etc.  Since  a  man's  bond  is  needed 
to  strengthen  his  word.  Feste  puns  on  word  in  the  sense  of 
"promise." 

III.  i.  39.    Pilchards.    Fish  very  like  herrings. 

III.  i.  45.    But.     If  ...  not. 

III.  i.  48.  Pass  upon.  Impose,  play  tricks  on.  Cf.  III.  ii. 
79  and  V.  i.  362.  It  is  often  interpreted  as  a  figurative  use 
of  a  fencing  phrase  meaning  "to  thrust." 

Ill-  i.  50.     Commodity.     Supply. 


NOTES.  173 

III.  i.  55.  Pair  of  these.  Pieces  of  money  like  what  Viola 
has  just  given  him. 

III.  i.  56.     Use.    Interest. 

III.  i.  57.  Pandarus,  etc.  In  Chaucer's  Troilus  and  Shak- 
spere's  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Pandarus  is  the  uncle  of  Cres 
sida,  who  serves  as  a  go-between. 

III.  i.  61.  Cressida  was  a  beggar.  The  reference  is  to  Rob- 
ert Henryson's  Testament  of  Cresseid,  in  which  the  heroine 
is  smitten  with  leprosy  and  becomes  a  beggar.  Shakspere 
again  alludes  to  it  in  Henry  V.,  II.  i  80,  "The  lazar  kite  of 
Cressid's  kind."  Henry  son  was  Scottish  poet  of  the 
later  15th  century. 

III.  i.  64-65.  Welkin  .  .  .  "element."  dement  was  used  in  the 
sense  of  "sky"  as  well  as  in  the  sense  still  familiar  in  such 
phrases  as  "out  of  my  element."  Feste's  wit  consists  in 
substituting  welkin,  a  synonym  for  element  in  the  wrong 
sense. 

III.  i.  70.  Haggard.  An  untrained  hawk.  Check.  Cf.  II.  v. 
122,  note.  Johnson  and  others  have  changed  the  and  in  this 
line  to  "not."  But  it  is  possible  to  retain  the  Folio  reading 
understanding  it  to  mean  that  while  the  fool  must  use  dis- 
crimination in  choosing  time  and  objects  for  his  wit,  he 
must  avoid  appearing  too  sensible,  by  straying  aside  (i.e., 
"checking")  after  any  object  that  may  offer. 

III.  i.  74.  Folly-fallen.  Fallen  into  folly.  Taint  their  wit. 
Spoil  their  reputation  for  wisdom. 

III.  i.  77.    Dieu  vous  garde.    God  keep  you. 

III.  i.  78.    Et  vous,  etc.     And  you  also :  your  servant. 

III.  i.  80.  Encounter.  The  delight  in  playing  with  words 
seems  to  have  been  shared  by  almost  all  classes  in  Shak- 
spere's  time. 

III.  i.  81.     Trade.     Business. 

III.  i.  84.  List.  Properly,  "border,"  and  so  "limit," 
"goal."  There  is  probably  also  a  pun  on  bound. 

III.  i.  85.     Taste.    Try. 

III.  i.  91.     Prevented.     Anticipated,  the  original  sense. 

III.  i.  97.  Pregnant.  .Ready.  Cf.  II.  ii.  30.  Note  the 
changes  in  the  style  of  Viola's  speeches.  With  Sir  Toby 
and  Feste,  she  i?  a  "corrupter  of  words" ;  wLjn  Olivia  joins 
them  she  speaks  the  stilted  language  of  the  courtier ;  alonr 


174  NOTES. 

with  the  Duke   or  Olivia,   she  speaks  in  highly  poetical 
blank  verse. 

III.  i.  119.  Music  from  the  spheres.  References  to  the 
doctrine  that  the  spheres  in  which  the  stars  were  supposed 
to  be  set  joined  to  make  an  exquisite  harmony  as  they 
revolved,  are  very  common  in  older  writers.  Cf.  Merchant 
of  Venice,  V.  i.  60-62, 

There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold 'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the    oung-eyed  cherubins. 

III.  i.  123.     Abuse.     Deceive,  impose  upon. 

III.  i.  126.     To  force.     For  forcing. 

III.  i.  128-29.  Stake  ...  a  baited  .  .  .  unmuzzled.  The  figure 
is  from  the  sport  of  baiting  with  dogs  a  bear  tied  to  a 
stake. 

III.  i.  130.     Receiving.    Capacity,  intelligence. 

III.  i.  131.  Cypress.  "A  light  transparent  material 
resembling  cobweb  lawn  or  crape,"  probably  named  from 
the  island  of  Cyprus,  from  which  such  stuffs  were  brought. 
[N.  E.  D.]  It  was  used  also  of  a  kerchief  made  of  this 
material.  Gollancz  thinks  bosom  here  means  "the  bosom  of 
the  dress,"  and  interprets  the  passage  thus :  "You  can  see 
my  heart ;  a  thin  gauze  as  it  were  hides  it,  not  a  stomacher." 
But  a  satisfactory  sense  is  given  if  we  take  bosom  in  its 
ordinary  meaning. 

III.  i.  134.  Grize.  Step.  Vulgar  'proof.  Common  experi- 
ence. Cf.  Julius  Caesar,  II.  i.  21-22, 

'Tis  a  common  proof 
That  lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder. 

III.  i.  144.  Like.  See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (b).  Proper, 
Fine,  handsome. 

III.  i.  150.     I.e.,  in  love  with  a  woman. 

III.  i.  162.    Maugre.     In  spite  of. 

III.  i.  165.     For  that.    Because. 

III.  i.  166-67.    For  metre,  see  Introduction,  p.  85, 1. 

III.  ii.  13.     'Slight.     Cf.  II.  v.  37,  note. 

III.  ii.  20.  Dormouse.  Sleepy,  like  the  dormouse,  that 
sleeps  all  winter. 


NOTES.  175 

III.  ii.  28.  Into  the  north.  Out  of  the  sunshine  and 
warmth. 

III.  ii.  35.  Brownist.  The  sect  of  Brownists  was  begun 
in  1582  by  Robert  Brown.  They  dissented  from  the  dis- 
cipline and  form  of  government  of  the  English  church, 
and  were  forerunners  of  the  Independents.  Politician. 
Intriguer. 

III.  ii.  36.     Me.     See  Introduction,  p.  39,  2,  (c). 

III.  ii.  46.     Curst.     Ill-tempered. 

III.  ii.  49.  Thou'st.  In  conversation  "thou"  was  used 
only  between  intimate  friends  or,  as  here,  to  one  treated  as 
an  inferior.  Hence,  in  a  challenge,  it  was  insulting. 

III.  ii.  53.  Bed  of  Ware.  "An  enormous  bed,  capable  of 
holding  twelve  persons,  now  to  be  seen  at  the  Rye-House. 
It  was  ten  feet  nine  inches  square  and  seven  feet  and  a  half 
high,  and  till  about  [1864]  was  in  the  Saracen's  Head  Inn  at 
Ware."  [Clar.]  For  a  picture  of  it,  see  Chambers's  Book 
of  Days,  i.  229,  or  Knight's  Shakespeare,  at  this  passage. 

III.  ii.  58.     Cubiculo.     A  "corrupted  word"  for  "lodging." 

III.  ii.  72.  Youngest  wren  of  nine.  The  Folios  read  "mine." 
Nearly  all  modern  editors  read  "nine,''  as  the  wren  usually 
lays  nine  eggs,  more  or  less,  and  the  last  hatched  may  be 
supposed  to  be  the  smallest.  As  Maria's  part  would  be 
•icted  by  a  boy,  references  to  her  small  stature  would 
toe  likely  to  be  apt.  Cf .  I.  v.  229,  note. 

III.  ii.  74.  Spleen.  The  physiologists  of  Shakspere's  time 
regarded  the  spleen  as  the  cause  of  laughter. 

III.  ii.  79.  Passages  of  grossness.  Gross  tricks  or  imposi- 
tions. Cf.  "pass  upon"  in  III.  i.  48,  and  V.  i.  362. 

III.  ii.  82.    Pedant.    Schoolmaster. 

III.  ii.  87-88.  The  new  map,  etc.  This  is  now  generally 
taken  to  refer  to  a  map  issued  to  accompany  the  1599  edition 
of  Hakluyt's  Voyages,  which  had  a  fuller  representation 
of  the  East  Indies  than  any  preceding.  See  Introduction, 
p.  30. 

III.  iii.  In  showing  us  Sebastian  arrived  in  Orsino's 
town,  this  scene  introduces  the  factor  which  is  to  untie  the 
knot  with  which  we  were  left  at  the  end  of  III.  i. 

III.  iii.  6.  "And  the  cause  was  not  altogether  love  to  see 
you,  though  so  much  was  that  love  as  might  have,"  etc. 


176  NOTES. 

III.  iii.  8.    Jealousy.     Fear. 

III.  iii.  9.  Being.  For  participles  depending1  on  a  pro- 
noun to  be  inferred  from  the  context,  cf .  Abbott,  §  §378, 379. 

III.  iii.  15.  The  words,  "thanks.  Too"  are  not  found  in 
the  first  Folio,  while  the  later  Folios  omit  verses  15  and  16 
altogether. 

III.  iii.  17.     Worth.     Wealth,  what  I  am  worth. 

III.  iii.  19.     Reliques.     Explained  by  verses  23,  24,  below. 

III.  iii.  26.  Count  his  galleys.  See  Introduction,  p.  39, 
2,  (b). 

III.  iii.  28.  It  would  scarce  be  answered.  It  would  be  hard 
for  me  to  make  a  defence  that  would  satisfy  him. 

III.  iii.  36.  Lapsed.  Some  word  meaning1  "caught"  seems 
to  be  required  by  the  context,  but  lapsed  is  not  found  else- 
where in  this  sense.  It  is  probably  a  corruption. 

III.  iii.  46.  For  idle  markets.  Full  enough  to  spend  on 
unnecessary  purchases. 

III.  iv.  In  this  long  scene  the  underplot  culminates  in 
the  farce  of  Malvolio's  downfall  and  the  encounter  of  Sir 
Andrew  and  Viola.  This  last  situation  is  solved  by  the 
appearance  of  Antonio,  while  fresh  complications  are 
introduced  in  his  mistaking  Viola  for  Sebastian,  and  in  his 
arrest. 

III.  iv.  1.  He  says  he'll  come.  Since  from  line  62  it  appears 
that  the  messenger  had  not  yet  returned,  most  editors  have 
taken  this  phrase  hypothetically  =  "Suppose  he  says,"  etc. 
Might  one  not  imagine  Olivia  watching-  the  success  of  the 
messenger  from  a  distance,  and  speaking  these  words  as 
*he  sees  Viola  consent  to  come  back? 

III.  iv.  2.     Of.    On.     See  Introduction,  pv41,  5,  (a). 

III.  iv.  5.  Sad.  Serious,  grave.  Cf .  As  You  Like  It,  III. 
ii.  227,  "Speak  sad  brow  and  true  maid."  Civil.  Quiet, 
restrained. 

III.  iv.  12.     Were  best.    Cf.  I.  v.  35,  II.  ii.  28. 

III.  iv.  25-26.  Please  one,  etc.  The  refrain  of  an  old  ballad 
still  extant. 

III.  iv.  38-39.  Nightingales  answer  daws,— and  so  I  may 
condescend  to  answer  a  servant. 

III.  iv.  61.  Midsummer  madness.  The  midsummer  moon 
was  supposed  to  be  particularly  potent  in  causing  madness. 


NOTES.  177 

III.  iv.  64.    Back.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (d). 

III.  iv.  70.    Miscarry.     Come  to  harm. 

III.  iv.  71.     Come  near.    Understand. 

III.  iv.  83.    Limed.    As  with  bird-lime. 

III.  iv.  90.     Incredulous.    Causing  incredulity. 

III.  iv.  128.  BawcocH.  A  familiar  term  meaning  "fine 
fellow,"  from  Fr.  beau  cog,  fine  cock. 

III.  iv.  131.  "Biddy,  come  with  me."  Probably  a  snatch  of 
a  song. 

III.  iv.  132.  Cherry-pit.  A  game  of  pitching  cherry-stones 
into  a  hole. 

III.  iv.  133.  Collier.  In  reference  to  the  saying,  "  'Like 
will  to  like,'  quoth  the  devil  to  the  collier." 

III.  iv.  145.     Genius.    Spirit. 

III.  iv.  147-48.  Take  air  and  taint.  Be  exposed  and  so  spoiled. 

III.  iv.  151.  Dark  room.  The  usual  treatment  of  lunatics 
until  comparatively  recent  times. 

III.  iv.  159.    May  morning.     A  sportive  season. 

III.  iv.  167.  Nor  .  .  .  not.  See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (a). 
Admire.  Wonder. 

III.  iv.  184.  Windy.  Apparently  not  the  "windward,'1 
but  the  side  towards  which  the  wind  blows,  so  that  the  law 
can  not  scent  you.  Furness  suggests  a  pun  on  blow,  line 
171,  above. 

III.  iv.  195.     Commerce.    Conversation,  intercourse. 

III.  iv.  197.     Scout  me.    See  Introduction,  p.  39,  2,  (c). 

III.  iv.  198.  Bum-baily.  A  petty  officer  who  followed 
close  behind  to  make  arrests. 

III.  iv.  203.    Approbation.    Testimony. 

III.  iv.  213.  Clodpole.  More  properly,  "clod-poll"  =  clod- 
pate. 

III.  iv.  220.  Cockatrices.  "A  serpent,  identified  with  the 
Basilisk,  fabulously  said  to  kill  by  its  mere  glance,  and  to 
be  hatched  from  a  cock's  egg."  [N.  E.  D.] 

III.  iv  222.  Presently.  Immediately.  After  him.  See 
Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (d). 

III.  iv.  227.  On  't.  This  is  the  Folio  reading.  The  change 
to  "out,"  usually  adopted,  seems  unnecessary. 

III.  iv.  233.  Jewel.  Any  precious  ornament,  not  necessa- 
rily a  stone. 


178  NOTES. 

III.  iv.  248.    Despite.    Malice. 

III.  iv.  249-50.     Dismount  thy  tuck.     Draw  thy  sword. 
III.  iv.  250.     Tare.    Ready. 

III.  iv.  262.  Unhatched.  This  seems  to  mean  "unhacked," 
and  some  editors  have  so  emended  the  line. 

III.  iv.  262-63.  Dubbed  ...  on  carpet  consideration. 
Knighted  at  home  for  money,  not  on  the  field  for  valor. 

III.  iv.  268.     Hob,  nob.     Have  or  have  not. 

III.  iv.  270.     Conduct.     Escort. 

III.  iv.  273.     Quirk.     Humour. 

III.  iv.  303.  Sir  priest.  "Sir"  was  applied  to  priests  who 
had  taken  the  bachelor's  degree  at  the  university.  Cf .  Sir 
Topas  in  IV.  ii.  2  ff.,  and  Sir  Oliver  Martext  in  As  You 
Like  It. 

III.  iv.  306.  Modern  acting*  editions  begin  a  new  icene 
here. 

III.  iv.  307.  Firago.  Probably  an  intentional  corruption 
of  "virago."  The  fact  that  it  is  properly  used  of  a  woman 
need  not  trouble  us  in  view  of  Sir  Toby's  habitual  liberties 
with  language. 

III.  iv.  309.    Stuck.    A  corruption  of  "stoccata,"  a  thrust. 

III.  iv.  310.    Answer.    The  return  hit. 

III.  iv.  313.  .  Sophy.    Cf.  II.  v.  201,  note. 

III.  iv.  326.  Take  up.  Make  up.  Cf.  As  You  Like  It,  V. 
iv.  104,  "I  knew,  when  seven  justices  could  not  take  up  a 
quarrel." 

III.  iv.  329.  Is  as  horribly  conceited.  Has  as  horrible  a 
conception. 

III.  iv.  346.    Duello.    The  duelling  code. 

III.  iv.  357.  Undertaker.  One  who  undertakes  business 
for  another.  Schmidt  gives  it  the  additional  idea  of 
"meddler." 

III.  iv.  369.    Favour.    Face.    Cf.  II.  iv.  24. 

III.  iv.  385.    Having.    Property,  possessions, 

III.  iv.  395.  Vainness.  Boastfulness.  The  Folios  have  no 
comma  after  babbling,  and  many  editors  omit  that  after 
lying  also,  making  these  two  words  adjectives. 

III.  iv.  402.    His  image.    What  he  appeared  to  be. 

III.  iv.  403.  Venerable.  Admirable,  worshipful,  without 
the  sense  of  age. 


NOTES.  179 

III.  iv.  406.     Feature.    Appearance  in  general. 

III.  iv.  408.     Unkind.    Wanting-  in  natural  affection. 

III.  iv.  410.  Trunks  o'erflourished.  Chests  with  ornamental 
carving's. 

III.  iv.  415.  So  do  not  1.  This  might  mean  (1)  I  do  not 
believe  as  he  does  (that  he  knows  me),  or  (2)  I  do  not 
believe  my  own  conjecture  (that  he  takes  me  for  Sebastian) 
as  firmly  as  he  does  his. 

III.  iv.  419.  A  couplet  or  two,  etc.  This  is  said  with 
reference  to  the  rhymed  maxims  in  Antonio's  speech. 
Furness  points  out  that  Viola's  speech  is  an  aside. 

III.  iv.  422.  Yet  living  in  my  glass.  I  am  like  a  mirror 
reflecting  his  living  face,  I  am  so  like  him. 

III.  iv.423.    Favour.     Cf.  line  369,  above. 

III.  iv.  425.    Prove.     Prove  true. 

III.  iv.  432-33.  Religious  in  it.  Practising  it  religiously.  [Var.] 

III.  iv.  434.     'Slid.    A  corruption  of  "God's  (eye)  lid." 

ACT  IV. 

In  the  fourth  act  the  plot  reaches  its  highest  point  of 
complexity.  Sebastian  is  now  taken  for  Viola,  as  in  the 
third  act  Viola  had  been  taken  for  Sebastian,  and  this  com- 
plicates not  only  the  humorous  situation  with  Sir  Andrew, 
but  also  the  serious  one  with  Olivia.  At  the  same  time  it 
introduces  an  element  which  makes  possible  the  ultimate 
solution  of  the  difficulty  caused  by  Olivia's  passion  for 
Cesario. 

IV.  i.  15.     Cockney.     An  effeminate  or  affected  person.     If 
the  clown's  speech  is  relevant  at  all,  it  probably  means, 
"If  fine  phrases  like  this  are  applied  to  fools'  talk,  the 
world  will  soon  be  overspread  with  affectation." 

IV.  i.  16.  Ungird  thy  strangeness.  Give  up  being  so  dis- 
tant. Feste  is  using  the  stilted  language  in  ridicule. 

IV.  i.  19.     Greek.     A  merry  fellow. 

IV.  i.  24-25.  After  fourteen  years1  purchase.  The  market 
price  of  land  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century 
was  the  sum  of  twelve  years'  rental.  The  good  report 
bought  from  a  fool  would  have  to  be  paid  for  longer  than 
its  worth  deserved. 


180  NOTES. 

IV.  i.  43.  Fleshed.  Rendered  eager  for  slaughter  by  the 
taste  of  blood. 

IV.  i.  47.    Malapert.    Saucy. 

IV.  i.  51.     Ungracious.    Graceless. 

IV.  i.  55.     Rudesby.    Ruffian. 

IV.  i.  57.    Extent.      Attack. 

IV.  i.  60.     Botched  up.     Patched  up,  clumsily  contrived. 

IV.  i.  63.     Heart.     Cf.  I.  i.  17,  note. 

IV.  i.  66.  Lethe.  That  one  of  the  four  rivers  of  Hade* 
which  brought  forgetfulness. 

IV.  ii.  For  the  source  from  which  Shakspere  derived 
the  main  idea  of  this  scene,  see  Introduction,  p.  34. 

IV.  ii.  2.     Sir  Topas.     Cf .  III.  iv.  303,  note. 

IV.  ii.  10.     Said.    Called. 

IV.  ii.  10-11.     Good  housekeeper.    A  hospitable  person. 

IV.  ii.  12.     Competitors.     Accomplices. 

IV.  ii.  15-16.    Hermit  of  Prague.    Jerome. 

IV.  ii.  17.  Gorbuduc.  A  legendary  British  king.  Cf.  the 
early  Elizabethan  play  so-called. 

IV.  ii.  30.  Hyperbolical.  The  clown's  corruption  of  "dia- 
bolical." 

IV.  ii.  44.  Clerestories.  The  upper  part  of  the  wall  of  a 
church,  containing  a  row  of  windows. 

IV.  ii.  51-52.  Egyptians  in  their  fog.  Cf.  Exodus,  X. 
21. 

IV.  ii.  57.  Constant  question.  Consistent  or  reasonable 
discussion. 

IV.  ii.  58.  Opinion  of  Pythagoras.  The  doctrine  of  the 
transmigration  of  souls. 

IV.  ii.  68.     Woodcock.    Cf.  II.  v.  90. 

IV.  ii.  72.     For  all  waters.    Up  to  anything. 

IV.  ii.  83  ff.  "Hey,  Robin,"  etc.  These  are  fragments  of 
an  old  song  to  be  found  in  Percy's  Rcliques  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry. 

IV.  ii.  97-98.  Five  wits.  The  intellectual  powers,  which 
were  numbered  five,  like  the  senses. 

IV.  ii.  99.    Notoriously.     Exceedingly. 

IV.  ii.  104.  Propertied.  The  exact  meaning  is  doubtful. 
£he  usual  interpretations  are  these:  (1)  Treated  me  as  » 
piece  of  property,  not  as  a  person  with  a  will  of  his  own; 


NOTES.  181 

(2)  Treated  me  as  a  stage  * 'property,-"  which  is  thrown  into 
a  dark  lumber-room  when  not  in  use. 

IV.  ii.  107.  Advise  you.  Take  care.  Part  of  what  the 
clown  says  in  the  rest  of  this  scene  is  spoken  in  the  voice 
of  Sir  Topas. 

IV.  ii.  118.     Shent.     Scolded. 

IV.  ii.  137  ff.  UI  am  gone,  sir."  This  is  probably  another 
old  song1,  though  not  elsewhere  extant. 

IV.  ii.  141.  Vice.  "The  established  buffoon  in  the  old 
moralities  and  other  imperfect  dramas.  He  had  the  name 
sometimes  of  one  vice,  sometimes  of  another,  but  most 
commonly  of  Iniquity,  or  vice  itself.  He  was  grotesquely 
dressed  in  a  cap  with  ass's  ears,  a  long  coat,  and  a  dagger 
of  lath;  and  one  of  his  chief  employments  was  to  make 
sport  with  the  devil,  leaping  on  his  back  and  belaboring 
him  with  his  dagger  of  lath,  till  he  made  him  roar.  The 
devil,  however,  always  carried  him  off  in  the  end.  .  .  .  His 
successors  on  the  stage  were  the  fools  and  clowns."  Nares's 
Glossary. 

IV.  iii.  6.     Credit.     Belief. 

IV.  iii.  12.     Instance.     Example.     Discourse.     Reason. 

IV.  iii.  21.    Deceivable.    Deceptive. 

IV.  iii.  24.     Chantry.    Private  chapel. 

IV.  iii.  29.     Whiles.    Until.     Come  to  note.    Become  known. 


ACT  V. 

V.  i.  1.    His.    Malvolio's.    Cf.  IV.  ii.  123  ff. 

V.  i.  23.  Conclusions  to  be  as  kisses.  Conclusions  following 
from  premises  brought  together,  as  kisses  follow  from  two 
pairs  of  lips  brought  together. 

V.  i.  24.  Tour.  For  this  vague  colloquial  use  of  your,  cf. 
Hamlet,  IV.  iii.  22-23,  uYour  worm  is  your  only  emperor  for 
diet." 

V.  i.  35.  Your  grace.  There  is  here  probably  a  play  on 
grace  as  a  theological  term  and  as  the  title  of  a  duke. 

V.  i.  36.    It.    I.e.,  ill  counsel. 

V.  i.  41.     Triplex.    Triple  time  in  music. 

V.  i.  58.    Bawbling.    Insignificant. 

V.  i.  59.     Unprizable.     Of  value  not  to  be  estimated,  as 


182  NOTES. 

being  either  too  great  or  too  small.  The  context  seems  to 
require  the  latter  meaning. 

V.  i.  60.    Scathful.     Destructive. 

V.  i.  61.    Bottom.    Vessel. 

V.  i.  65.     Fraught.     Freight.     Candy.     Candia  or  Crete. 

V.  i.  68.  Desperate  of  shame  and  state.  Reckless  of  disgrace 
and  position. 

V.  i.  69.    Brabble.    Brawl. 

V.  i.  72.    Distraction.    Madness. 

V.  i.  75.  Dear.  Costly,  grievous.  The  sense  of  "coming 
home  to  one  intimately"  is  frequent  in  the  Shaksperean  use 
of  this  word. 

V.  i.  87.    Pure.    See  Introduction,  p.  41,  4,  (b). 

V.  i.  95.    Recommended.     Intrusted. 

V.  i.  98.  Three  months.  This  is,  of  course,  inconsistent 
with  the  estimate  of  the  time  taken  by  the  action  founded  on 
the  hint  in  I.  iv.  3.  But  Shakspere's  reckoning  in  these 
matters  is  not  mathematical,  and  the  success  of  his  method 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  statement  in  the  present  passage 
does  not  surprise  us  if  we  follow  the  play  sympathetically. 

V.  i.  113.     Fat  and  fulsome.    Nauseating. 

V.  i.  118.  Have.  See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (b).  Many 
editors  emend  to  "hath." 

V.  i.  122.  Egyptian  thief.  Thyamis  of  Memphis,  the  cap- 
tain of  a  band  of  robbers,  carried  off  Chariclea  and  fell  in  love 
with  her.  When,  later,  he  was  driven  to  extremity  by  a 
stronger  band,  he  attempted  to  slay  her.  The  story  is  told 
in  the  Ethiopica  of  Heliodorus,  a  translation  of  which  was 
current  in  Shakspere's  time. 

V.  i.  129.  Minion.  Darling.  How  had  the  Duke  come  to 
know  of  Olivia's  love  for  Viola? 

V.  i.  130.     Tender.    Regard. 

V.  i.  137.     To  do  you  rest.    To  give  you  ease.     [Clar.J 

V.  i.  143.  Detested.  This  word  probably  bears  here  the 
not  uncommon  early  sense  of  "repudiated." 

V.  i.  151.     Strangle  thy  propriety.    Deny  thy  identity. 

V.  i.  160.  Contract.  This  passage,  like  the  speech  of 
Olivia  in  IV.  iii.  22  ff,  refers  to  the  ceremony  of  betrothal, 
not  of  marriage. 

V.  i.  164.    Ceremony.      See  Introduction,  p.  36,  2.     Some 


NOTES.  183 

critics  suppose  that  Shakspere  frequently  regarded  the 
second  "e"  of  this  word  as  silent.  Compact.  See  Introduc- 
tion, p.  37,  6. 

V.  i.  165.    Function.    Official  capacity. 

V.  i.  169.  Case.  Skin.  Cf.  the  pun  in  Winter's  Tale,  IV. 
iv.  843-44,  ''Though  my  case  be  a  pitiful  one,  I  hope  I  shall 
not  be  flayed  out  of  it." 

V.  i.  175.    Little.    A  little,  some. 

V.  i.  186.  Incardinate.  Sir  Andrew's  attempt  at  "incar- 
nate." 

V.  i.  188.  'Od'slifelings.  A  corruption  and  diminution  of 
the  oath  "God's  life." 

V.  i.  193.    Bespahe.    Addressed.     Cf.  the  modern  sense, 

V.  i.  199.     Othergates.    In  another  fashion. 

V.  i.  206.    Set.    Fixed. 

V.  i.  207-8.  A  passy  measures  pavin.  The  first  Folio  reads 
"panin."  Most  editors  emend  to  "pavin, '»  and  take  Toby's 
drunken  utterance  to  refer  to  a  kind  of  dignified  dance, 
implying  that  the  surgeon  is  "a  grave,  solemn  coxcomb" 
[Malone],  or  that  he  is  slow  in  coming  [Clar.J  R.  G.  White 
thinks  it  a  misprint  for  "panim,"  and  reads  "a  passing 
measure  (that  is,  egregious)  paynim."  But  Sir  Toby  was 
drunk. 

V.  i.  213.  An  ass-head,  etc.  These  reproaches  seem  to 
be  aimed  at  Sir  Andrew. 

V.  i.  219.  Strange  regard.  Distant  look.  For  metre,  see 
Introduction,  p.  37,  4. 

V.  i.  224.  Natural  perspective.  For  metre,  see  Introduction, 
p.  36,  2.  Perspective  was  a  general  term  used  for  any  optical 
device.  Here  it  may  mean  no  more  than  "mirror." 

V.  i.  234-35.  That  deity  .  .  .  of  here  and  everywhere.  The 
divine  property  of  omnipresence. 

V.  i.  241.     Suited.    Dressed. 

V.  i.  244.  Dimension.  Bodily  shape.  Cf .  I.  v.  292.  Grossly. 
Materially. 

V.  i.  245.    Participate.    Possess  like  other  men. 

V.  i.  253.    Record.    For  accent,  see  Introduction,  p.  37,  6. 

V.  i.  256.    Lets.     Hinders. 

V.  i.  259.  Do.  See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (b).  Jump. 
Agree. 


NOTES. 

V.  i.  262.  Weeds.  Garments.  For  metre,  see  Introduc- 
tion, p.  37,  5. 

V.  i.  266.    Mistook.    See  Introduction,  p.  40,  3,  (c). 

V.  i.  267.  Nature  to  her  bias  drew.  In  bowling,  the  bowls 
'draw  to  their  bias"  when  they  curve  in  on  the  side  on 
which  they  are  weighted  or  "biassed."  In  falling  in  love 
with  Sebastian's  likeness  in  Viola,  Olivia  was  following  her 
natural  affinity  for  Sebastian. 

V.  i.  272.     Gloss.    The  "perspective"  of  line  224,  above. 

V.  i.  278.  That  orbed  continent,  etc.  Shakspere  always  uses 
continent  in  the  literal  sense  of  "that  which  contains."  Here, 
then,  it  seems  to  mean  the  firmament  which  contains  the 
orbs,  and  among  them  the  fire  (the  sun)  that  severs  day  and 
night.  Viola  promises  to  keep  her  oaths  as  truly  as  the  firma- 
ment keeps  the  sun  in  its  path. 

V.  i.  282.     Upon.    On  account  of. 

V.  i.  285.     Enlarge.    Set  at  liberty. 

V.  i.  288.  Extracting.  Drawing  all  other  thoughts  out  of 
my  mind. 

V.  i.  295.  Epistles  are  no  gospels.  The  reference  is,  of 
course,  to  the  portions  of  Scripture  appointed  to  be  read  in 
church.  Skills.  Matters. 

V.  i.  301.  How  now.  The  clown  seems  to  have  begun  to 
read  in  some  extravagant  manner. 

V.  i.  304.  Vox.  Voice ;  presumably  the  appropriate  voice 
for  such  an  epistle. 

V.  i.  307.  Perpend.  Weigh,  consider.  Shakspere  uses  it 
always  as  humorous  bombast. 

V.  i.  326.  These  things,  etc.  A  nominative  absolute.  If, 
after  you  have  thought  further  on  these  things,  it  please 
you  to  think  me  as  desirable  for  a  sister  as  for  a  wife. 

V.  i.  328.  On't.  The  grammar  of  this  is  loose,  but  the 
sense  of  "the  alliance  on't"  is  clearly  "the  alliance  that 
makes  us  brother  and  sister,"  i.e.,  the  double  marriage. 

V.  i.  329.    Proper.    Own. 

V.  i.  331.    Quits.    Sets  you  free. 

V.  i.  342.    From  it.    Differently. 

V.  i.  345.  Modesty  of  honour.  The  sense  of  propriety  that 
belongs  to  honorable  persons. 

V.  i.  349.    Lighter.    Less  important. 


NOTES  185 

V.  1.  353.    Geek.    Dupe. 

V.  i.  360.    Such  .  .  .  which.    See  Introduction,  p.  39,2,  (d). 

V.  i.  362.  Practice.  Plot.  Shrewdly.  Wickedly.  Passed. 
Cf.  III.  i.  48,  note. 

V.  i.  366.  Brawl  to  come.  Future  brawl ;  not  an  infinitive 
after  "let." 

V.  i.  371-72.  Upon  some  stubborn  .  .  .  him.  Inconsequence 
of  some  stubborn  and  discourteous  qualities  which  we 
charged  against  him. 

V.  i.  373.     Importance.    Importunity. 

V.  i.  393.     Convents.     Summons. 

V.  i.  395.    For  metre,  see  Introduction,  p.  36,  3. 

V.  i.  400  ff.  This  song  is  regarded  by  most  editors  as  nof 
by  Shakspere,  and  its  introduction  here  may  be  due  merely 
to  the  actor.  But  in  the  mouth  of  Feste  it  does  not  see/ 
out  of  place  or  without  charm. 


WORD  INDEX. 


Abhors  .  .  .  detests,  II.  v.  223-24. 

abuse,  III.  i.  123. 

admire,  III.  iv.  167. 

advanced,  II.  v.  36. 

advise  you,  IV.  ii.  107. 

affect,  II.  v.  27. 

affectioned,  II.  iii.  168. 

after  him,  III.  iv.  222. 

air  and  taint,  III.  iv.  147-48. 

allow,  I.  ii.  59. 

allowed,  I.  v.  107. 

alter  services,  II.  v.  173. 

answer,  III.  iv.  310. 

answered,  III.  iii.  28. 

antique,  II.  iv.  3. 

appetite,  I.  i.  3. 

approbation,  III.  iv.  203. 

aqua-vitae,  II.  v.  219. 

are,  II.  v.  153. 

Arion,  I.  ii.  15 

ass,  II.  iii.  194. 

ass-head,  V.  i.  213. 

Babbling,  III.  iv.  395. 

back,  III.  iv.  64. 

back-trick,  I.  iii.  133. 

baffle,  II.  v.  177. 

baited,  III.  i.  129. 

barf  ul,  I.  iv.  42. 

barren,  I.  iii.  87. 

bawbling,  V.  i.  58. 

bawcock,  III.  iv.  128. 

beauty's  a  flower,  I.  v.  58-59. 

bed  of  Ware,  III.  ii.  53. 

behaviour,  II.  v.  19. 

being,  III.  iii.  9. 

bent,  II.  iv.  37. 

bespake,  V.  i.  193. 

Biddy,  come  with  me,  III.  Iv.  131. 

bird-bolts,  I.  v  105. 


blazon,  I.  v.  324. 

blood,  II.  v.  159. 

blows,  II.  v.  47. 

board,  I.  iii.  62. 

bones,  II.  iv.  45. 

bosom,  III.  i.  131. 

botched  up,  IV.  i.  60. 

botcher,  I.  v.  53. 

bottom,  V.  i.  61. 

bound,  III.  i.  83-84. 

brabble,  V.  i.  69. 

brain,  I.  i.  37. 

branched,  II.  v.  52. 

brawl  to  come,  V.  i.  366. 

breach  of  the  sea,  II.  i.  25. 

breast,  II.  iii.  21 

brock,  II.  v.  112. 

Brownist,  III.  ii.  35. 

bum-baily,  III.  iv.  198. 

burn  some  sack,  II.  iii.  215. 

but,  I.  iv.  14;  I.  v.165;  I.v.  307;  III. 

i.  45. 

buttery-bar,  I.  iii.  76. 
by  your  favour,  II.  iv.  25. 

Canary,' I. iii.  88. 
Candy,  V.  i.  65. 
cantons,  I.  v.  301. 
cakes  and  ale,  II  iii.  132. 
case,  V.  i.  169. 
Castiliano  vulgo,  I.  iii.  47. 
Catalan,  II.  iii.  84. 
catch,  II.  iii.  19. 
ceremony,  V.  i.  164. 
chambermaid,  I.  iii.  56. 
champaign,  II.  v.  175. 
chantry,  IV.  iii.  24. 
charges  me  in  manners,  II.  1. 16. 
checks,  II.  v.  122. 
cherry-pit.  III.  iv.  132. 
186 


WORD  INDEX. 


187 


cheveril.  III.  1. 13. 

churchman,  III.  i.  4. 

civil  bounds,  I.  iv.  22. 

clerestories,  IV.  ii.  44. 

clodpole,  III.  iv.  213L 

close,  II.  v.  23. 

cloyment,  II.  iv.  100. 

cockatrices,  III.  iv.220. 

cockney,  IV.  i.  15. 

codling,  I.  v.  175. 

collier,  III.  iv.  133. 

coloured  stock,  I.  iii.  147. 

come  near,  III.  iv.  71. 

come  to  note,  IV.  iii.  29. 

comfortable,  I.  V.  250. 

commerce,  III.  iv.  195. 

commodity,  III.  i.  50. 

compact,  V.  i.  164. 

competitors,  IV.  ii.  12. 

comptible,  I.  v.  197. 

con,  I.  v.  195. 

conceited,  III.  iv.  329. 

conclusions  .  .  .  ,  V.  i.  23 

conduct,  III.  iv.  270. 

consonancy,  II.  v.  140-41. 

constant  question,  IV.  ii.  57. 

cons  state,  II.  iii.  169. 

constellation,  I.  iv.  36. 

contagious  breath,  II.  iii.  59. 

contempt  of  question,  II.  v.  95-96. 

contract,  V.  i.  160. 

convents,  V.  i.  393. 

coranto,  I.  iii.  140. 

count,  I.  iii.  115. 

count  his  galleys,  III.  iii.  26. 

county,  I.  v.  333. 

couplet,  III.  iv.  419. 

cousin,  I.  iii.  5. 

coystrill,  I.  iii.  45. 

coziers',il.iii.l02. 

credit,  IV.  iii.  6. 

Gressida  was  a  beggar.  III.  i.  61. 

crowner,  I.  v.  149. 

crush,  II.  v.  151. 

cry  upon't,  II.  v.  134. 

cubiculo.  III.  I  i.  58. 

cucullus,  I .  v.  64. 

curl  by  nature,  I.  iii.  108. 


curst,  III.  ii.  46. 

cypress,  II.  iv.  52;  III.  i.  131. 

Dam'd    coloured    stock,     I.    lit 

147. 

dark  room.  III.  iv.  151. 
day-bed,  II.  v.  53. 
dear,  V.  i.  75. 

dear  my  sweet,  II.  v.  195-96. 
deceivable,  IV.  iii.  21. 
demure  .  .  .  regard,  II.  v.  5Y. 
denay,  II.  iv.  125. 
delivered,  I.  ii.  42. 
Deluculo,  etc.,  II.  iii.  3. 
desperate,  II.  ii.  8;  V.  i.  68. 
despite,  HI.  iv.  248. 
detested,  V.  1. 143. 
dexteriously,  I.  v.  69. 
Dieu  vous  garde,  III.  i.  77. 
dimension,  I.  v.  292;  V.  i.  244. 
discourse,  IV.  iii.  12. 
discovers,  II.  v.  175. 
dishonest,  I.  v.  47. 
dismount  thy  tuck,  III.  iv.  249-50. 
distemper,  II.  i.  5. 
distempered,  I.  v.  103. 
distraction,  V.i.  72. 
divulged,  I.  v.  291. 
do,  V.  i.  259. 
dog  at,  II.  iii.  66-67. 
dormouse,  III.  ii.  20. 
dry,  I.  iii.  80-84;  I.  v.  46. 
duello,  III.  iv.  346. 
dubbed  ...   ,  I  I.  iv.  262-63. 

Egyptian  thief,  V.  i.  122. 
Egyptians  in   their  fog,   IV.  K 

51-52. 

element,  I.  i.  26. 
employment,  II.  v.  89. 
encounter,  III.  i.  80. 
enemy,  II.  ii.  30. 
enlarge,  V.  i.  285. 
entertainment,  I.  v.  242 
epistles,  V.  i.  295. 
equinoctial,  II.  iii.  26. 
et  vous,  etc.,  III.  i.  78. 
except  before  excepted,  L  ilL  7. 


188 


WORD  INDEX. 


express,  II.  i.  16. 
expressure,  II.  iii.  180. 
extent,  IV.  i.  57. 
extracting,  V.  i.  288. 
extravagancy,  II.  i.  12. 

Fadge,  II.  ii.  35. 

fall,  I.  i.  4. 

fancy,  I.i.  14;  II.  V.  29. 

fangs  of  malice,  I.  v.  205-206. 

fantastical,  I.  i.  15. 

«« Farewell,  "etc.   II.  iii.  116  ff. 

fat  and  fulsome,  V.  i.  113. 

faults,  II.  v.  139. 

favour,  II.  iv.  24;  III.  iv.  369,  423. 

fear  no  colours,  I.  v.  6. 

feature,  III.  iv.  406. 

feelingly  personated,  II.  iii.  181-82. 

fine  frame,  I.  i.  33. 

flrago,  III.  iv.  307. 

five  wits,  IV.  ii.  97-98 

flame,  I.v.295. 

flatterer,  I.  v.  341. 

flatter  with,  I.  v.  335. 

fleshed,  IV.  i.  43. 

follows,  II.  v.  31. 

folly-fallen,  III.  i.  74. 

fond,  II.  11.  86. 

fools'  zanies,  I.  v.  101. 

for  all  waters,  IV.  ii.  72. 

forbid  .  .  .  not,  II.  ii.  20. 

forgive,  I.  v.  215. 

formal  capacity,  II.  v.  126-27. 

for  that,  III.  i.  165.- 

four  elements,  II.  iii.  10-11. 

fourteen  years'  purchase,  IV.  i. 

24-25. 

fraught,  V.  i.  65. 
free,  II.  iv.  45. 
from,  I.  v.  211. 
from  it,  V.  i.  342. 
function,  V.  i.  165. 
fustian,  II.  v.  117. 

Galliard,  I.  iii.  129. 
gaskins,  I.  v.28. 
geek,  V.  L  353. 
genius,  III.  iv,  145, 


gentleman     much    desires,   I.  ^ 

112-13. 

gentleness,  II.  i.  49. 
giant,  I.  v.  229. 
glass,  V.  i.  272. 
golden  shaft,  I.  i.  35. 
good  housekeeper,  IV.  ii.  10-1L 
good  my,  I.  v.  71-72. 
Gorbuduc,  IV.  ii.  17. 
gospels,  V.  i.  295. 
gracious,  I.  v.  293. 
Greek,  IV.  i.  19. 
grize,  III.  i.  134. 
gross,  II.  v.  178. 
grossly,  V.i.  244. 
gust,  I.  iii.  34. 

Haggard,  III.  i.  70. 

hart,  I.i.  17. 

have,  V.  i.  118. 

he  says  he'll  come,  III.  Iv.  1. 

having,  III.  iv.  385. 

heart,  I.  i.  37;  IV.  i.  63. 

heat,  I.  v.  146. 

here  he  comes,  I.  v.  128. 

hermit  of  Prague,  IV.  ii.  15-16. 

"Hey,  Robin,"  IV.  ii.  83. 

high  fantastical,  I.  i.  15. 

his,  V.  i.  1. 

hob  nob.  III.  iv.  268. 

horribly  conceited,  III.  iv.  329. 

horse  of  that  colour,  II.  iii.  190-91 

how  now,  V.  i.  301. 

hull,  I.  v.  228. 

humour,  I.  iv.  5. 

humour  of  state,  II.  v.  56. 

hyperbolical,  IV.  ii.  30. 

"I  am  gone,  sir,"  IV.  ii.137. 

idle  markets,  III.  iii.  46. 

image,  III.  iv.  402. 

impeticos,  II.  iii.  29. 

importance,  V.  i.  373. 

impressure,  II.  v.  101. 

in  contempt  of  question,  H.  ? 

95-96. 

in  grain,  I.  v.  266. 
in  standing  water,  I.  v.  176. 


WORD  INDEX. 


189 


tneardinate,  V.  i.  186. 
incredulous,  III.  iv.  90. 
Indies,  III.  ii.  88. 
instance,  IV.  iii.  12. 
intimate,  II.  v.  91-92. 
into  the  north,  III.  ii.  28. 
it,  V.i.36. 
item,  I.  v.  276. 

Jade,  II.  v.  180. 
jealousy,  III.  iii.  8. 
jets,  II.  v.  35. 
jewel,  III.  iv.  233. 
Jezebel,  II.  v.  45. 
jump,  V.i.259. 

Kickshawses,  I.  iii.  124. 
kisses,  V.  i.  23. 

Labelled,  I.  v.  276. 

Lady  of  the  Strachy    II.  v.  43-44. 

lapsed,  III.  iii.  36. 

leasing,  I.  v.  110. 

leman,  II.  iii.  28. 

lenten,  I.  v.  9. 

Lethe,  IV.  i.66. 

lets,  V.  i.  256. 

lighter,  V.  i.  349. 

like,  III.  i.  144. 

limed,  III.  iv.  83. 

list,  III.  i.  84. 

little,  V.  i.  175. 

liver,  I.i.37. 

lived,  I.ii.14. 

lost,  II.  ii.22. 

Lucrece,  II.  v.  102. 

lying,  III.  iv.  395. 

M,  O,  A,  I,  II.  v.  116. 
madonna,  I.  v.  48. 
maidenhead,  I.  v.  244. 
malapert,  IV.  i.  47. 
manifests,  II.  v.  184. 
maugre,  III.  i.  162. 
May  morning,  III.  iv.  159. 
me,  I.  ii.  53;  III.  ii.  36. 
mellow,  I.  ii.  43. 


metal  of  India,  II.  v.  16. 

midsummer  madness,  III.  iv.  61. 

minion,  V.  i.  129. 

miscarry,  III.  iv.  70. 

misprision,  I.  v.  63. 

mistook,  V.  i.  266. 

Mistress    Mall's    picture,    I.   iii. 

137-38. 

modest,  I.  iii.  9;  I.  v.  201. 
modesty  of  honour,  V.  i.  345. 
motion,  II.  iv.  99. 
motions,  II.  iv.  18. 
mouse  of  virtue,  I.  v.  72. 
murder  me,  II.  i.  39. 
music  from  the  spheres,  III.  L 

119. 

mute,  I.  ii.  62. 
my  — ,  II.  v.  65. 

Natural,  I.  iii.  31. 

natural  perspective,  V.  i.  224. 

nature  to  her  bias,  V.  i.  267. 

nayword,  II.  iii.  153. 

new  map,  III.  ii.  87. 

nightingales  answer  daws,  IIL 

iv.  38-39. 

noblest  (heart),  I.  i.  18. 
not  all  love,  III.  iii.  6. 
nor  no,  I.  v.  108. 
nor  .  .  .  not,  II.  i.  1;  III.  iv.  167. 
notoriously,  IV.  ii.  99. 
numbers  altered,  II.  v.  110. 
nuncio,  I.  iv.  29. 

O  mistress  mine,  II.  iii.  43  ft. 

od's  lifelings,  V.  i.  188. 

of,  III.  iv.  2. 

old  age,  II.  iv.  48. 

olive,  I.  v.  237. 

on  a  forgotten  matter,  II.  iii.  183. 

on't,  III.  iv.  227;  V.  i.  328. 

opinion  of  Pythagoras,  IV.  ii.  5& 

opposite,  II.  v.  162. 

orbed  continent,  V.  i.  278. 

out,  II.  iii.  210. 

othergates,  V.  i.  199. 

O,  the  twelfth,  II.  iii.  95. 


190 


WORD  INDEX. 


overture,  I.  v.  236. 
owe,  I.  v.  342. 

Pair  of  these,  III.  1. 55. 

Pandarus,  III.  i.  57. 

parish  top,  I.  iii.  47. 

participate,  V.  i.  245. 

pass  upon,  III.  i.  48. 

passages  of  grossness,  III.  ii.  79. 

passed,  V.  i.  362. 

passy  measures  pavin,  V.  i.  207, 

208. 

pedant,  III.  ii.  82. 
peevish,  I.  v.  331. 
Peg-a-Ramsey,  II.  iii.  85. 
peevishly,  II.  ii.  15. 
Penthesilea,  II.  iii.  202. 
perchance,  I.  ii.  5. 
perpend,  V.i.  307. 
persuaded  of  himself,  II.  iii.  170-71. 
pia  mater,  I.  v.  129. 
picture  of  "we  three,"  II.  iii.  18. 
Pigrogromitus,  II.  iii.  25 
pilchards,  III.  i.  39. 
pitch,  I.  i.12. 
plague,  I.  iii.  1. 
please  one,  III.  iv.  25-26. 
point-devise,  II.  v.  179. 
points,  I.  v.  26. 
politic,  II.  v.  177. 
politician,  III.  ii.  35. 
propertied,  IV.  ii.  104. 
possess  us,  II.  iii.  157. 
practice,  V.  i.  362. 
praise,  I.  v.  280. 
pregnant,  II.  ii.  30;  III.  i.97. 
presently,  III.  iv.  222. 
prevented,  III.  i.  91. 
profound  heart,  I.  v.  205. 
proper,  III.  i.  143;  V.  i.  329. 
proper-false,  II.  ii.  31. 
prove,  III.  iv.  425. 
pure,  V.i.  87. 
put  down,  I.  iii.  89. 
Pythagoras,  IV.  ii.  58. 

Qneubus,  II.  iii.  26. 
quick,  L  i.  9. 


Quinapalus,  I.  v.  40. 
quirk,  III.  iv.  273. 
quits,  V.  i.  331. 

Recollected  terms,  II.  iv.  & 
recommended,  V.  i.  95. 
record,  V.  i.  253. 
recover,  II.  iii.  209. 
regard,  II.  v.  71. 
receiving,  III.  i.  130. 
religious  in  it,  III.  iv.  432-35*. 
reliques,  III.  iii.  19. 
retention,  II.  iv.  97. 
reverberate,  I.  v.  303. 
round,  II.  iii.  108. 
rub  your  chain,  II.  iii.  135-3a 
rubious,  I.  iv.  33. 
rudesby,  IV.  i.  55. 

Sad,  III.  iv.  5. 
said,  IV.  ii.  10 
scathful,  V.  i.  60. 
scout  me,  III.  iv.  197. 
self,  I.  i.  39. 
semblative,  I.  Iv.  35. 
set,  V.i.  206. 

seven  years'  heat,  I.  L  26 
shall  I  to,  II.  iv.  123. 
she,  I.  v.  270. 

she  were  better,  II.  ii.  28 
sheep-biter,  II.  v.  6. 
shent,  IV.  ii.  118. 
sheriff's  post,  I.v.  164., 
shrewdly,  V.  i.  362. 
shrewishly,  I.  v.  178. 
silly-sooth,  II.  iv.  46. 
since  bonds,  III.!.  23  24 
sinister  usage,  I.  v  197. 
sir  priest,  III.  iv.  303. 
Sir  Topas,  IV.  ii.  2. 
skills,  V.i.  295. 
'slid,  III.  iv.  434. 
'slight,  II.  v.  37;  III.  ii.  Id. 
slough,  II.  v.  161. 
smiling,  II.  iv.  116. 
sneck-up,  II.  iii.  107. 
so,  II.  ii.  13. 
so  do  not  I,  III.  iv  415, 


WORD  INDEX. 


191 


so  hardy  to  come,  II.  ii.  10-11. 

so  please,  I.  i.  24. 

song,  II.  iv.  51  ff. 

Sophy,  II.  v.  201;  III.  iv.  313. 

sound,  I.i.5;  I.  iv.34. 

Sowter,  II.  v.  134. 

speaks  .    .    .  madman,   I.  v.  119- 

120. 

spinster,  II.  iv.  44. 
spleen,  III.  ii.  74. 
spoke,  I.  iv.  21 ;  I.  v.  126. 
squash,  I.  v.  174. 
stake,  III.  i.  128. 
state,  I.  v.  309;  II.  v.49. 
staiiiel,  II.  v.  122. 
stone-bow,  II.  v.  50. 
stoup,  II.  iii.  15. 
stout,  II.  v.  188. 
strange,  II.  v.  188. 
strange  regard,  V.  i.  219. 
strangle  thy  propriety,  V.  i.  151. 
strife,  I.iv.  42. 
stuck,  III.  iv.  309. 
substractors,  I.  iii.  38. 
such  estimable  wonder,  II.  i.  31. 
such  .  .  .  which,  V.  i.  360. 
suited,  V.  i.  241. 
sure,  II.  ii.  22. 
swabber,  I.  v.  228. 
swarths,  II.  iii.  170. 
sways  she  level,  II.  iv.  31. 
sweet  and  twenty,  II.  iii.  55. 

Tabor,  III.  i.  2. 

taffeta,  II.  iv.  75. 

taint  their  wit,  III.  i.  74. 

take  up,  III.  iv.  326. 

tall,  I.  iii.  21. 

tang  arguments   of  state,  II.  v. 

163-64. 

Tartar,  II.  v.  230. 
taste,  III.  i.  85. 
'Taurus,  I.  iii.  149. 
taxation,  I.  v.  236. 
tell  me  your  mind,  I.  v.  230. 
tender,  V.  i.  130. 
testril,  II.  iii.  37. 
thanks.    Too,  III.  iii.  15. 


that,  II.  iv.  100. 

that  deity  .  .  .  ,  V.  i.  234-35. 

that  orbed  continent,  V.  i.  278. 

the  like,  I.  ii.  21. 

the  old  age,  II.  iv.  48. 

"There  dwelt  .  .  .  ,"  II.  iii.  £ 

there  is  ...  sides,  II.  iv.  94. 

these  set  kind,  I.  v.  100. 

these  things,  V.  i.  326. 

this  present,  I.  v.  263-64. 

this  simulation,  II.  v.  150. 

those  poor  number,  I.  ii.  10. 

thought,  II.  iv.  113. 

thought  is  free,  I.  iii.  75. 

thou'st,  HI.ii.49. 

"Three  merry  men  be  we."  II 

iii.  85-86. 

three  months,  V.  i.  98. 
three  souls,  II.  iii.  64. 
thriftless,  II.  ii.  41. 
tilly  vally,  II.  iii.  87-88. 
time  of  moon,  I.  v.  224. 
to  do  you  rest,  V.  i.  137. 
to  force,  III.  i.  126. 
tongues,  I.  iii.  102-108. 
took,  I.  v.  29*. 
trade,  III.  i.  81. 
travel  of  regard,  II.  v.  57. 
tray-trip,  II.  v.  211. 
trick  of  singularity,  II.  v.  165. 
triplex,  V.  i.  41. 
trunks   o'er   flourished,    III.  iv. 

410. 

turned  into  a  hart,  I.  i.  21. 
turning  away,  I.  v.  22. 

Uncivil  rule,  II.  iii.  139-40. 

undertaker,  III.  iv.  357. 

ungird  thy  strangeness,  IV.  i.  16. 

ungracious,  IV.  i.  51. 

unhatched,  III.  iv.  262. 

unkind,  III.  iv.  408. 

unmuzzled,  III.  i.  129. 

upon,  V.  i.  282. 

upon  some  stubborn,  V.  i.  371-72 

unprizable,  V.  i.  59. 

use,  III.  i.  56. 

utters,  II.  iii.  169 


192 


WORD  INDEX. 


Vainness,  III.  iv.  395. 
validity,  I.  i.  12. 
Vaplans,  II.  iii.  25. 
venerable,  III.  iv.  403. 
vice,  IV.  ii.  141. 
viol-de-gamboys,  I.  iii.  28. 
voices,  I.  v.  291. 
Vox,  V.  i.  304. 
vulgar  proof,  III.  i.  134. 

Ways,  II.  v.  1. 

we  three,  II.  iii.  18. 

wears  she  to,  II.  iv.  30. 

weeds,  V.  i.  262. 

welkin,  II.  iii.  62. 

welkin  .  .  .  element,  III.  i.  64-65. 

well  done*  I.  v,  264. 


were  best,  III.  iv.  12. 

whiles,  IV.  iii.  29. 

will  on,  I.  v.  212. 

willow,  I.  v.  299. 

windy,  III.  iv.  184. 

with,  I.  v.  95. 

witty,  I.  v.  40. 

woodcock,  II.  v.  90;  IV.  ii.  68. 

worth,  III,  iii.  17. 

Yard,  III.  iv.  250. 

yet  living,  III.  iv.422. 

you,  I.  v.  281. 

you  were  best,  I.  v.  35. 

youngest  wren  of  nine,  III.  ii. 

your,  V.  i.  24. 

your  grace,  V,  L  35. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 

(Adapted,  and  enlarged,  from  the  Manual  for  tlie  Study 
of  English  Classics,  by  George  L.  Marsh) 

HELPS   TO  STUDY 
THE  DRAMA 

In  what  did  the  drama  originate? 

Describe  briefly  the  miracle  plays,  or  ' '  mysteries, " 
telling  where  they  were  performed,  by  whom,  and  what, 
in  general,  was  their  subject  matter  (pp.  12,  13). 

What  elements  were  contained  in  the  miracle  plays  that 
had  an  influence  toward  the  development  of  comedy  ? 

What  were  moralities?     Interludes? 

What  foreign  influences  contributed  to  the  development 
of  the  Elizabethan  drama  (pp.  15,  16)  ? 

Name  several  of  Shakspere  's  predecessors  in  the  drama. 
Who  was  the  greatest  of  them?' 

Describe  briefly  the  theater  of  Shakspere 's  day  (pp. 
22,  23).  The  characteristics  of  an  Elizabethan  audience. 
Did  Shakspere  write  his  plays  for  posterity  or  to  please 
an  audience  of  his  own  time? 

SHAKSPERE  's   CAREER 

When  and  where  was  Shakspere  born? 
What  can  you  say  as  to  his  education   (p.  18)  ?     His 
occupations  before  he  went  to  London? 

What  do  we  know  about  his  early  years  in  London? 
195 


196  APPENDIX 

What  were  his  first  dramatic  efforts  (p.  20)  ?  What 
other  literary  work,  besides  the  writing  of  plays,  did  he 
do? 

Learn  the  general  characteristics  of  Shakspere's  work 
during  each  of  the  four  periods  into  which  it  is  divided, 
and  the  names  of  representative  plays  of  each  period 
(pp.  24-27). 

Perry  Pictures  73-75  have  to  do  with  Shakspere  and  his 
home. 

TWELFTH  NIGHT — DATE,  SOURCES,  FORM 

When  was  this  play  probably  written  (pp.  29-31)  ?  To 
what  period  of  Shakspere's  life  does  it  belong?  W^hen 
and  where  was  it  first  printed? 

Where  did  Shakspere  apparently  get  his  main  plot  (p. 
32)  ?  Point  out  specific  resemblances  between  the  plot  of 
Twelfth  Night  and  that  of  Apolonius  and  Silla  as  out- 
lined on  pages  32  and  33. 

What  characters  are  wholly  Shakspere 's  (p.  33)? 
What  do  they  give  to  the  play  which  is  not  in  Kiche's 
story? 

What  do  you  think  of  your  editor's  suggestion  (p.  34) 
as  to  a  source  for  the  '  *  charge  of  madness  in  Malvolio, ' ' 
etc.?  Point  out  in  detail  whatever  resemblances  you  find 
in  the  situations. 

Find  good  examples  for  yourself  of  all  the  peculiarities 
of  language  and  meter  summarized  on  pages  35  to  41. 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  PLOT 

Does  I,  i,  give  an  erroneous  idea  as  to  who  are  to  be 
the  leading  personages  of  the  play?  Is  the  failure  to  in- 
troduce or  mention  Viola  a  defect? 

I,  ii:  What  is  the  "motive  for  Viola 's  disguise7' 
(note,  bottom  p.  157)  ? 


APPENDIX  197 

Why  does  Viola  mention  that  her  father  knew  Orsino 
and  that  he  is  (or  was)  a  bachelor?  Is  she  already  in 
love  with  him? 

What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  her  mention  of  Se- 
bastian? 

I,  iv:    Is  the  favor  Viola  has  obtained  with  the  Duke 
accounted  for?     Her  attitude  towards  him  which  is  so 
suddenly  shown  at  the  end  of  this  scene?    Is  her  attitude 
shown  to  one  who  sees  the  play  acted  before  it  is  expressed 
in  words?     How  and  when? 

Is  anything  accomplished  by  the  elaborate  fooling  in 
the  first  part  of  I,  v?  Is  there  too  long  a  time  before 
Viola  enters  and  the  main  story  is  taken  up  again? 

What  love  affair  is  foreshadowed  in  I,  v,  besides  the 
main  ones  already  started  (see  1.  30)  ? 

When  does  Olivia  begin  to  be  especially  interested  in 
Cesario?  When  and  how  do  we  learn  most  about  this 
(II,  ii)  ?  What  situation  in  As  You  Like  It  does  it 
resemble? 

II,  i:     Why  does  Sebastian  mention  his  resemblance  to 
Viola?    Did  she  mention  it?    Do  you  see  any  reason  why? 

II,  ii:  Why  does  Viola  accept  the  ring  from  Olivia? 
Had  she  realized  before  this  the  turn  affairs  were  taking? 

II,  iii:  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  having  Mal- 
volio  interrupt  the  revellers;  that  is,  what  later  action  is 
accounted  for? 

II,  iv :  Point  out  all  the  veiled  references  Viola  makes 
to  her  own  love.  Can  they  be  as  effective  when  the  play  is 
read  as  when  it  is  acted?  Why? 

What  dramatic  purpose  does  the  Clown's  comment  on 
the  Duke's  changeableness  serve  (II,  iv,  75)  ? 

II,  v :  How  and  to  whom  are  the  remarks  of  Sir  Toby, 
Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian  made  after  Malvolio  enters  (1, 
26)  ?  Describe  a  proper  setting  for  the  scene. 


198  APPENDIX 

III,  i:  Does  the  talk  of  Viola  and  the  Clown  at  the 
beginning  of  this  scene  further  the  plot?  What  does 
it  do? 

What  defense  is  there  (as  in  difference  of  rank)  for 
Olivia's  declaration  of  her  love? 

What  new  complication  of  the  plot  begins  in  III,  ii? 
Note  how  this  brings  the  main  serious  plot  and  the  comic 
under-plots  together. 

Ill,  iii:  What  dramatic  reason  do  you  find  for  An- 
tonio's fear  to  be  seen  in  Illyria? 

III,  iv:     Point  out  the  specific  effect  of  every  part  of 
the  letter  Malvolio  found. 

What  incentive  besides  mere  love  of  a  joke  have  the 
plotters  against  Malvolio? 

Do  you  find  it  objectionable  that  the  heroine  should  be 
the  butt  of  a  practical  joke?  What  does  the  mock  duel 
accomplish  for  the  plot?  Of  what  scene  in  a  more  recent 
English  play  are  you  reminded  by  this  scene  (cf.  The 
Rivals)  ? 

To  whom  is  Viola  talking  just  after  Antonio's  exit, 
III,  iv,  414  ff.? 

What  is  the  l '  element ' '  referred  to  in  the  first  note  on 
Act  IV  (p.  179)  ? 

IV,  ii:     What   portions   of   the    Clown's    speeches   on 
page  134  are  in  his  own  person?    What  other  person  does 
he  represent? 

Is  the  action  of  IV,  iii,  sufficiently  accounted  for? 
How? 

See  the  question  in  the  note  on  V,  i,  129. 

Whose  appearance  unties  the  dramatic  knot?  Show  in 
detail  how. 

Do  you  find  the  Duke 's  transfer  of  his  affection  to  Viola 
prepared  for  (e.  g.,  in  his  character)?  Is  it  reasonable? 
Does  he  deserve  her? 

What  becomes  of  the  various  characters  besides  the  two 


APPENDIX  199 

principal  pairs  of  lovers — especially  Malvolio,  Sir  Toby, 
and  Sir  Andrew? 

What  significance  has  the  song  at  the  end  of  the  play? 

THE  PLOT  IN  GENERAL 

Whence  comes  the  title  of  the  play?  What  do  you 
think  of  it? 

What  contemporary  beliefs  and  customs  do  you  find 
satirized  (as  in  IV,  ii)  ?  • 

Where  is  Illyria,  the  scene  of  the  play? 

For  what  purposes  is  soliloquy  used  in  this  play  (as  at 
end  of  II,  ii,  etc.)  ? 

What  examples  of  ' '  double  time ' '  are  there  in  Twelfth 
Night  (as  I,  iv,  3;  V,  i,  103;  etc.)? 

Compare  this  play  with  The  Comedy  of  Errors  as  to  the 
use  of  confusion  of  identity. 

What  scenes  here  are  farcical?  What  scenes  are  much 
more  effective  acted  than  read?  Why? 

CHARACTERIZATION 

The  scene  of  the  play  is  Illyria.  Of  what  nationality 
are  the  comic  characters? 

What  male  part  requires  the  best  actor  in  a  stage  pre- 
sentation of  Twelfth  Night?  Why? 

What  idea  of  the  Duke's  character  do  we  get  at  the 
very  beginning  of  the  play?  Is  the  portrait  of  him  con- 
sistent throughout?  He  has  been  compared  with  Romeo 
before  the  meeting  with  Juliet.  What  is  the  point  of 
the  comparison? 

How  are  we  prepared  for  the  characteristics  of  Sir 
Andrew  before  we  meet  him?  How  does  his  name  fit 
him?  What  other  characters  are  there  in  this  play  whose 
names  fit  similarly? 

To  what  extent  is  Malvolio 's  character  indicated  by  his 
first  speeches  (I,  v,  84,  93),  and  Olivia's  comment?  In 


200  APPENDIX 

what  respects  is  he  properly  called  by  Maria  a  Puritan 
(II,  iii,  160)  f 

Point  out  the  different  ways  in  which  Viola's  character 
is  revealed. 

Verify  the  statement  as  to  Viola 's  speeches  in  note  on 
III,  i,  97  (p.  173). 

Compare  the  Clown  in  this  play  with  Touchstone  in  As 
You  Like  It,  and  other  Shaksperean  fools.  Does  he  have 
any  function -beside  creating  humor? 

THEME   SUBJECTS 

1.  Shakspere 's  life   (pp.  17-28). 

2.  The  drama  before  Shakspere   (pp.  16-17). 

3.  The  stage  of  Shakspere 's  time  (pp.  22,  23;  with 
illustration  of  how  different  parts  of  this  play  were  pre- 
sumably staged). 

4.  Twelfth  Night  and  its   source    (pp.   32-35;   note 
especially  what  is  added  by  the  characters  of  Shakspere 's 
creation). 

5.  Narrative  themes  on  the  following  subjects: 

The  story  of  Duke  Orsino; 
The  story  of  Viola ; 
Olivia's  love  affairs; 
The  deluding  of  Malvolio ; 
The  story  of  Sebastian. 

6.  Character  sketches  of  the  following: 

Orsino  (cf.  Eomeo  before  he  meets  Juliet)  ; 

Viola; 

Olivia; 

Malvolio ; 

Sir  Toby; 

Sir  Andrew; 

Maria, 


APPENDIX  201 

7.  Comparison  of  the  Clown  with  other  Shaksperean 
clowns  (e.  g.,  Touchstone). 

8.  Comparison  of  the  duel  scene  in  Twelfth  Night 
with  that  in  The  Rivals. 

9.  Viola's  disguise   (the  reason  for  it,  effects  of  it, 
double  meanings  made  possible  by  it — especially  p.  87, 
etc.). 

10.  Confusion  of  identity  in  this  play   (where  it  oc- 
curs, what  part  it  plays  in  working  up  comic  situations, 
etc.). 

11.  The  use  of  prose  and  verse. 

12.  Twelfth  Night   on  the   stage.      (Note   especially 
parts  that  are  more  effective  when  acted  than  one  easily 
realizes  on  merely  reading  them.) 

13.  Discussion  of  Malvolio's  alleged  Puritanism.     (To 
what  extent,  if  at  all,  is  he  a  satire  on  the  Puritans?) 

14.  The  songs  in  the  play.     (Note  what  relations,  if 
any,  they  have  to  the  situations  in  which  they  are  intro- 
duced; what  merits  they  have  in  themselves,  etc.). 


202  APPENDIX 

SELECTIONS  FOB  CLASS   READING 

Passages  particularly  worth  reading  aloud  or  acting  in 
the  classroom  are  as  follows: 

1.  The  love-sick  Duke    (pp.  45-47). 

2.  Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew  (pp.  50-55). 

3.  Malvolio  is  introduced  (pp.  60-63). 

4.  Olivia  and  Viola   (pp.  66-70). 

5.  Viola  receives  Olivia's  ring  (pp.  73,  74). 

6.  Malvolio  stirs  up  resentment  (pp.  78-82). 

7.  Viola  and  the  Duke   (pp.  83-88). 

8.  Malvolio  deluded   (pp.  89-95). 

9.  Viola  and  the  Clown  (pp.  97-99). 

10.  Sir  Andrew  is  urged  to  the  duel  (pp.  104-6). 

11.  Malvolio  and  Olivia  (pp.  110-13). 

12.  Sir  Andrew's  quarrel  (pp.  115-17,  119-22). 

13.  "Sir  Topas":'and  Malvolio   (pp.  130-35). 

14.  The  misunderstanding  as  to  Olivia's  wedding  (pp. 
142-45). 

15.  Explanations   (pp.  147-50). 

16.  Malvolio  is* enlightened   (pp.  152-54). 


ROLAW 


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